


Stretto

by Serravi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Brother Feels, Dark Harry, Dimension Travel, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Harry Potter Being an Asshole, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Hurt/Comfort, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serravi/pseuds/Serravi
Summary: Harry tried his best, he did what he thought was right. When that turns out to be the most horrible mistake ever, his soul shattered but his friends paid the price. Thus, when given the chance to try again he jumped for it blindly. Anything would be better than the world he left, right? He never thought that the living would torment him so much. AU Time Travel.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Stretto**

**Prologue Chapter 1**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor associated worlds/characters._

* * *

_Hogwarts_

The breeze reeked of blood and dust as the defenders of Hogwarts stood side by side facing the entrance to the Great Hall. Wands drawn, an air of confusion and relief set in amongst them. Neville's heart sank as he came down the staircase. There were only dozens left out of hundreds. They had already picked up many of the fallen and placed them in the Great Hall, lined side by side on the four tables.

_No..._

Neville blasted through a particularly large rubble pile that blocked his path. Those nearby stiffened noticeably and whipped around, wands drawn with apprehension. Relaxing once they saw who stepped through, they went back to carting bodies. Life's been an ongoing nightmare. Neville couldn't help but morbidly think that the ones lying on the tables were the lucky ones.

Not to mention, their hell isn't remotely over. The Death Eaters had inflicted at least double what they lost, and they started off with roughly equal numbers to begin with. As Neville neared the Entrance Hall, he couldn't help but notice the craters and blood splatters became more frequent. For a fleeting second, he worried those he was looking for were already dead, but luckily he spotted a mop of matted red hair halfway down the Grand Staircase. They leaned against the bannister with both forearms, their leg wrapped in bandages with a stick against it. The owner looked up and acknowledged Neville's presence with a nod before turning back to watch the last of the dead being moved away.

Neville passed behind Ron, making no motion to touch him. The time for false camaraderie was long over. By now, everyone just wanted this nightmare to end in the quickest way possible.

Not knowing what else to say, Neville asked softly, "Why do you think all the death eaters disappeared?"

Ron eyed the group of ragged defenders. Only several dozen remained, mostly Order members, professors, and a few residents of Hogsmeade. With a tired heave, he replied, "Not a clue. Is Lavender back with reinforcements yet?"

Neville looked to the side, avoiding his gaze. Ron chuckled bitterly, "Of course, chances are she took that chance to get out while she can. It's a miracle we got this many people in the first place."

Neville worried for Ron. Before their fifth year he was filled with innocent bravado. Sure he got cocky and was an ignorant prat, but he was always there. After Harry's betrayal he couldn't help but witness the steady decline in Ron's personality. Cynicism and incertitude gnawed away from his emotional pedestal. By their fifth year, Fred and George's final prank against Umbridge was the last time he saw Ron laugh out loud.

Although Ron's change had been disturbing (and under normal circumstances would have warranted a visit to the mind healer), at least a part of it was due to Hermione. Said girl came up the staircase, levitating a body as she went. Neville recognized it as one of the seventh year Gryffindors.

Hermione gave Neville a pained smile and kept walking up the staircase, leaving the body at the top for someone else to move it into the Great Hall. Neville's voice clenched as she came down and stood next to them, leaning against the stone bannister.

He asked Hermione, "How are you holding up?"

Hermione shook her head, letting a small teardrop slide it's way down her scarred face. Hesitating for a bit, she slipped out her wand and held it against Neville's head.

_Could've been better. At least...at least we took down the Carrows. With McGonagall being down and Ron unable to move properly though...I'm not sure how we're going to combat the disadvantage in numbers though._

Her face scrunched into a worried look as she continued, _Even if our plan goes perfectly, there's still all the other Death Eaters that we'll have to kill. Somehow I doubt someone like the Lestranges would just lay down their wands._

Neville jumped as Hermione let out a gravelly laugh that quickly transitioned into a coughing fit. Ron patted her back, leaving smudges of dirt and blood on her black robes.

Neville, watching the two de-facto leaders of the defenders, realized that they were both spent forces as the situation finally dawned on them. Sure, the Horcruxes were all gone save two but they still needed to kill Voldemort.

With a sinking heart he realized that if they were to have any chance of winning, they'd need a new public face for their movement. Mrs. Weasley was still clutching the dead body of her son, tears streaking down her face. She clutched Fred's head, rocking back and forth as if it was a baby mumbling incomprehensibly. Percy's expression was completely blank as he stared down at them, blood dripping down from his wand hand.

Everywhere he looked, Neville saw only defeat and anguish. There were no leaders to hide behind or to blaze ahead, only a wall of tears and a moat of craters and corpses. Hope was completely gone from everyone's minds, only wishing for this nightmare to end. If they continued like this they wouldn't even be able to protest as Voldemort cut them down.

Something had to change.

Steeling himself, casting a low Sonorous charm to amplify his voice, he called out, "Defenders of Hogwarts! We've lost many good souls today! It seems like they threw their lives to stop tyranny and were cut down like weeds! Our enemies outnumber us, and we lost many of our most experienced duelers!

However, we can't let their sacrifice go to waste!

I know we are all grieving! We should be! Sons, brothers, friends, each one of the fallen meant something to us! That's how we are different from them! Do you think Voldemort or Bellatrix would grieve for their dead?I No! They cast them aside like used tools! I know we asked a lot from you all, but let me just make one more request! Channel that grief! Feel that anger to all that is wrong in this world! The enemy showed himself, we are the closest we've ever been to ridding the world of Voldemort! Rage and make him feel the despair we feel! For our children, for those that can't fight, even those that fought against us and betrayed us, we have to persevere! Let's make tomorrow the beginning of a new era, one free of Dark Lords and where peace can finally come back!"

Silence. Then, like the sudden arrival of the Hogwarts Express, a cacophonous roar of applause soon aroused from the battered few that remained standing. Hermione came up to Neville, keeping Ron steady as they came down the steps, beaming with renewed vigor, _That was amazing, Neville. I'm sorry to say this, but I'd never expected to hear that from you._

Neville laughed nervously as he turned to Ron, "I hope you don't mind that I stole the spotlight from you."

Ron, in turn, gave him a lopsided grin, "And I thought you'd never get the balls to do public speaking."

Neville shook his head, "Seemed like we needed it."

Hermione's lips started to turn upwards but then they froze. Neville caught the sudden change in atmosphere from her and looked at her questioningly. Hermione sighed silently and tapped the small of Neville's neck lightly _, Everyone is going to expect you to lead the charge now. This uplift of everyone's spirits hinges on you, Neville._

Said boy frowned. His part wasn't supposed to happen until the battle was well underway. Ron was supposed to take charge and draw everyone's attention away from him and his target.

"So what do you think we should do?"

You'll have to start off the battle. We can still count on Voldemort not showing his deformed face until later so the only danger will be Harry and the Lestranges. We'll have to find a way to distract the Lestranges while you go for Harry.

Neville nodded, brows furrowing. Ron looked at them and huffed indignantly, "I'm sorry, I didn't know that I'm demoted to chopped liver. What were you two going on about?"

Sheepishly Hermione quickly relayed the dilemma that they were having to the redhead. Ron squinted for a bit and said, "Well, isn't it obvious? The Lestranges won't interfere in any battle Harry's in. Bloody traitorous git, but he's noble to a fault. No way he'll let Bellatrix attack even if she wanted to."

Neville and Hermione looked shocked for several seconds. Neville then slowly muttered, "Leave it to his best friend to use his own virtue against him. That might be the most Slytherin thing you've said."

Ron mockingly looked offended, "Oi! You trying to pick a fight?"

Despite the grim situation the trio were in, they still found themselves laughing. Suddenly, the Grand Entrance burst open once more. Neville walked up to the broken doors, wand arm feeling heavy.

* * *

_Harry_

Longbottom. Wasn't he the boy whose parents were tortured into insanity by Bella? Harry dimly recalled the boy being scared by his own shadow, although he doubted that the plump boy had any recollection of what a shadow even is. It said a lot when one of his few possessions outside of school supplies was a Remembrall.

The raven haired boy, no longer wearing any glasses, glanced around looking for him. When he landed on the boy he was surprised to see that Longbottom couldn't actually be called a plump boy anymore. And if his sharp determined gaze were anything to go by, the days of him using a Remembrall were long gone.

**KILL THEM**

The voice. Again, he heard the voice. Of course, it wasn't hard to deduce who it belonged to. After all, he interacted with the original daily.

Harry lowered his head and a smile formed on his face.

**KILL THEM!**

_Not until we get everything in place, master. Don't worry, we will stomp out the remnants of this resistance movement by nighttime._

A distinct din of satisfaction was all the response Harry received.

* * *

"Lestranges, we need to set a beacon for the dementors. Go for the Astronomy tower once it starts.", Harry ordered, eyes never tearing away from Longbottom's.

Bellatrix followed Harry's gaze and sneered tauntingly, "And give up the chance of seeing you tear apart your little army? Never. Give that job to Mulciber or Avery or something."

Harry chuckled coldly, "It's unwise to keep the Dark Lord waiting for your games. Get to the Astronomy Tower, or I'll make you."

Bellatrix's expression looked like she wanted to argue but a quick glare caused it to flatline in response, her lips drawn into a thin line, "Yes, my lord."

Harry looked back at the supposed new leader of Dumbledore's Army. Emerald met determined hazel, "Brought the club back together, Longbottom? Ah, that's right, we never reached the end of the syllabus. Were you expecting some sort of final exam?", Harry taunted. He appraised the group of mute and fuming fighters with a faux-stern look, looking every bit like a Professor Snape as he did so.

"Seems like several of you didn't show up though. Pity, instant failing grade.", said the turncoat with a smirk.

Neville drew a laboured breath, every fibre of his being screaming for him to throw a hex while Harry was monologuing. Anger simmered under his breath as he ignored the jibe, "Where's your master?"

"Why, you're thinking of finally joining us? Longbottom, you-" Harry cut off when Longbottom impatiently interrupted, "You know what I mean. Harry, where is Voldemort?"

"Dark Lord stuff, I don't know. Why don't you go and ask him yourself when he comes back? He might even be nice enough to not torture you."

Neville growled at the jab, face turning pink at first. However, he took a deep breath and responded with an even tone, "Is that you talking, Harry, or the piece of Voldemort that's attached to your head?"

Harry's joking demeanour soured upon mention of the horcrux. The air became oppressive as a dark aura descended on the area, emanating from the raven-haired boy.

"So it wasn't a coincidence. I assume I must give kudos to you lot for finding out. Was it Dumbledore or Hermione?"

The air became thick, palpable like blood. The weaker willed members of both sides fell to the floor, gasping for air.

"No, never mind, that's not important. If you know that means everyone else here does. I can't let any of you leave this castle alive."

Harry immediately slashed the air, sending a chain of wordless red and white curses flying at Neville. Neville swore and dove to the side.

_Crap I didn't even see him move! Hermione, for all our sakes I hope you're right about the trump card. I know I can't defeat someone that duels like Voldemort did back at the Ministry._

Neville didn't get to breath as another volley of curses forced Neville to roll away from Harry. The ground he occupied only a second reduced to rubble. Neville quickly scrambled up while the dust covered his tracks and shouted, "Protego!"

A shield blossomed out of his wand and formed a wall between the two combatants. Harry bemusedly looked at the shield, "Impressive shield, but it wouldn't stand up to anything stronger than a stunner from me. What are you playing at, Longbottom?"

"Something I learned from you." _Buying time._

Neville scrambled to his feet while at the same time Harry fired off a Reductor at the shield. While his shield crumbled immediately upon impact it distracted Harry just long enough for Neville to shout his trump card.

_For all our sakes Hermione, I hope you were right that Harry never learned how to fight this._

"LEGILIMENS!"

* * *

_Memory 1_

Neville fought the urge to puke as the feel of forced mind magic took its toll. As the scenery changed, a buzzing sound slowly crescendo-ed until it sounded like he was in the middle of an overgrown beehive.

He whipped his head around trying to regain his bearings but quickly realized there wasn't much to look at. A miasma of smoke and fog prevented Neville from seeing much in front of him, but as he got used to the surroundings he could clearly make out roughly rectangular shapes jutting out from the ground. Gravestones. As he walked to the nearest one, a shape flitted across his face and his eyes zeroed in on the reason for the buzzing.

Snitches. Thousands of them, all buzzing about the open graveyard.

Neville reached up and grabbed a random snitch from the air, tiny wings flapping valiantly to escape. On the surface of the snitch etched _1998-03-04_ and the words "Diagon Alley".

_This must be how his memories are kept._

As Neville explored the mindscape, he noticed that most of the snitches kept their distance from him. Whenever he walked in a direction only a few snitches dared come close, the rest stayed just beyond his reach. Their random movements didn't seem to be random at all, Neville realized.

He checked a few of the other nearby snitches and realized with a sinking heart that every one of them had a date and location coinciding with a Death Eater raid. A small part of him had hoped that the sightings of Harry leading raids on muggleborns was just lies, but considering how he has memories of every single one...Neville clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened.

Even if Harry made it out of this war, his crimes demanded at the minimum a lifetime in Azkaban. Subconsciously, Neville's objective shifted; no longer was he trying to find a way to bring the old Harry back. He steeled his nerves as he ran faster, looking for the earliest memory possible.

He needed to find a weakness in Harry. A way to bring him down, one way or another.

As he ran onwards, he noticed a particular snitch flying at a slower pace. It looked distinctly different from the others, bearing marks of rust and overuse. It's wings flapped with a dissonant tempo.

Neville lunged for it, fingers quickly closing around the snitch. Wings flapping uselessly, he read the date and time read _March 20, 1998. Malfoy Manor Cellar._

As if it knew what it's holder wanted, a latch appeared. He took a deep breath and opened it.

* * *

_Memory One_

The snitch disappeared from his hand as the memory unfolded before his eyes. A prison cell in what appears to be a wine cellar formed before him. A figure in the cell sat against the wall, making twirly motions on the floor silently whilst humming a serene tune. With a pang, Neville recognized the small figure. Suddenly the door to the cellar opened, revealing the subject of his current dilemma.

"Luna."

The girl in the corner, blonde hair matted from days without proper care, lifted her head up to look at her visitor. Silvery eyes widened as she recognized the newcomer, but she made no effort to speak first.

"Look Luna, you don't have to be here. Your father, he's been printing these stories that Voldemort would rather not exist. If you could just convince him to close up shop then you can go home free."

Luna made no motion that she heard Harry's plea for a good minute, content with staring directly into Harry's green eyes. Neville grimaced as his vision adjusted to the dim lighting, revealing the condition that Luna was in. Bruises and long scabs covered every exposed limb, and her lips were cracked. Thankfully, nothing seemed damaged beyond repair but Neville could only imagine what someone like Bellatrix could do to her. Not all damage was skin-deep.

After what seemed like an eternity, Luna rasped quietly, "Wrackspurts follow your every move Harry."

"Damn it, Luna! This isn't the time for your fascination with creatures that don't exist! You don't belong here! If the Malfoys or the Carrows realize who they've caught you'll be tortured and flogged in the Great Hall!"

Luna got up and slowly made her way over to the bars separating them. Neville's heart clenched as he observed her limping motion, clearly as a result of a recent leg wound. She made a "come hither" motion to Harry, who obeyed it with narrowed eyes. She whispered softly into Harry's ear,

"Fate gave me this path to walk down like she gave you yours, I have no reason to disobey it. My dad's publication gives hope to those that need it in these times. I don't mind my role if it means others far stronger than me keep their heads up."

Harry let out an exasperated noise of frustration. Just as he was about to reply, sounds of shouting could be heard through the cellar door. He worriedly looked at the door and quickly made his way to see what the commotion was about. As he opened the door, Luna suddenly spoke up,

"Do come visit again, it often gets lonely here."

Neville felt his feet get swept up as if carried by a wind, signifying the end of the memory. However, nothing compared to the whirlwind in his head as he tried to wrap his head around Harry's reaction. It seemed completely detached from how Harry had been in their one-sided duel. This Harry almost seemed like the one he went to school with.

Suddenly, a second snitch formed in his hand, clasp already opened. Neville barely managed to read the label before the scenery started shifting.

_March 26, 1998. Malfoy Manor Cellar._

* * *

_Memory Two_

As soon as his feet planted on the ground, Neville knew that it was the same location. However, the memory was clearly not the same one since the cell had a second occupant. Like last time, Harry came through the cellar door at the start, this time holding two trays of food. He spared no attention to the second occupant as he went to the food slot.

"Here's your food, Luna.", he said quietly.

Luna eyed her lunch with a hungry gleam. She took the proffered tray without a sound but paused when Harry retreated the second tray from them, placing it away from the jail cell. Her gaze darted from Harry to the other occupant in the room who watched them through a messy cascade of frizzled hair. Understanding quickly dawned on her as she realized the reason behind Harry's conflicted gaze.

"You-Know-Who wants something from Mr. Ollivander.", Luna stated. Harry's expression turned into a stony non-expressive one in response. His silence confirmed Luna's suspicions more than anything he could've said. Luna took another look at Ollivander, seemingly made up her mind, and offered the tray. Ollivander shook his head as if to refuse but Luna shoved it into his hands.

"Here. We can share this."

Harry interjected, "It's enchanted. Only one person can eat from each tray. Mr. Ollivander would be poisoned if he ate from yours."

Ollivander stopped, looking at the tray as if it had grown heads. Luna let out a deep sigh and turned to Harry, "Are they labelled? If I don't eat from this, will Ollivander be able to?"

Harry's emotionless demeanour cracked as he got the implication, "Luna, you don't mean to—"

"Thanks for answering Harry.", Luna said and shoved the tray into Ollivander's hands. He looked up at the girl in shock, "Wha—but this means you'll go hungry for the day! I can't impose on you the consequences of my own actions."

Luna took the first thing from the tray, a deceptively delicious-looking roasted turkey leg, and shoved it into Ollivander's mouth. Harry shouted as Ollivander was forced to bite on the turkey, "NO!"

Harry's shoulders slumped as the tray glowed, signifying the activation of the charm. Luna gave him a triumphant gaze despite her stomach growling to indicate that it was anything but a win.

A moment of silence occurred down in the cellar as Harry sat down, interrupted only by the sounds of chewing. Neville clearly saw that something was bothering Harry, judging from his fidgeting. Something that he desperately wanted to talk to Luna about.

Eventually Harry caved and broke the silence, "Luna...your father was killed yesterday. Snatchers found him with Ron and Hermione."

Harry paused, waiting for a reaction from the imprisoned girl. However, when it became clear that none were forthcoming, he continued, "He put up a fight to buy time for them to get out, but lost his life in the end. When Ron and Hermione get caught, Bella will bring them here as a sort of showpiece for Voldemort. Afterwards, they're going to die for their crimes as well."

Luna looked up. She earnestly looked into Harry's eyes as if searching for something within the emerald depths, eyes jerking from left to right in a staccato tempo. Her shoulder sagged a bit and she turned her gaze to the floor, hair falling loosely around her face.

"You're not going to stop them, are you?"

Harry looked incredulously at the girl. Luna continued softly, not really looking for a reply from him, "The Wrackspurts infestation you've been victim to must have clouded your vision — the old you would have dove in head first to get them to safety. I know someone that can help with your ailment, I'll take you to them later."

Luna then stood back up and stretched her back, "So, I thought you said I'd be free if my dad stopped printing those articles? Surely there is no better way to stop someone from doing something than killing them."

Harry looked at her with something between guilt and sorrow, "Sorry, he said he still has to keep you in here. He thinks you'll be a flight risk with your father dying and all."

Whatever Neville expected to see, he hadn't expected to see Luna start laughing hysterically. From Harry's expression, he didn't either. Eventually the laughter subsided, ripples of mirth still shaking her body from time to time as she said, "Harry, did you really think he ever planned on letting me go?"

"No, but—"

Luna interrupted him commandingly, although Neville wasn't quite sure how she managed to do that considering how she never raised her voice,"Harry. When we heard that the Death Eaters were looking to stop the Quibbler, I already knew they were coming for us. My father still kept printing his articles just as how I still took up the role of co-leader of Dumbledore's Army. We knew we'd be risking our lives for this."

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it. A burp from where Ollivander was sitting caused everyone present (Neville included) to jump and stare at the wandmaker who swiftly adopted a 'house-elf dropping priceless heirloom' look.

"Ah, I'm sorry. The food was fantastic."

Harry's looked darkened and he hissed in the most poisonous tone possible, "That was not meant for you. Give that tray back."

Ollivander, frightened at the sudden change in demeanour, hurriedly passed the mostly empty tray back to Harry without a word. Harry turned and left, pausing as he caught Luna's concerned gaze. Whatever words exchanged, Neville wasn't privy to. The appearance of a third snitch prevented him from dwelling on it either.

_March 29th, 1998. Malfoy Manor._

* * *

_Memory Three_

Neville squinted, eyes getting used to the sudden change in lighting. The dim glow of the cellar was replaced with a rather shiny daytime sun. An opulent manor, at least four stories tall, loomed before him.

" - we found them first, the gold-",

"The gold?! Hah, you can take the gold you mangy wolf! I only seek the honor of -"

Neville stiffened at the voices that appeared behind him. The vague figures of several people coalesced into life. While he didn't recognize most of them, Neville's wand hand inadvertently clenched as he came face to face with the heavily-lidded eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Of what, Lestrange?", a new voice appeared. Bellatrix's entire demeanour shifted from arrogant excitement to irritation as Harry strode over, green eyes glinting.

"What are you doing here Potter?", she asked.

Harry retorted haughtily, "The years in Azkaban must have damaged your memory retention. I've been assigned here for the past week to take care of any prisoners we get. More to the point I call the shots here, Lestrange. I heard you got a few prisoners, these better be more worth it than some newspaper editor's daughter and a rickety old wandmaker."

Bellatrix glared at Harry. Her disdain for the teen was clear but her self-preservation instincts prevented her from making any direct challenge. She huffed and looked back at the man in front of her. Suddenly, a face-splitting smirk spread across her face and she _purred_ , "Be that as it may, I think you'll be happy to hear we caught your Mudblood and blood traitor friends. The same ones you 'disavowed' months ago.".

An indignant growl came from the man that went ignored up until now, "Oi-we?! Me and Scabior caught'em! You glory ho—"

His rant cut off as a flash of light erupted from Bellatrix's outstretched wand, felling the man in a split second. His companions whipped their wands out but a quick look at Bellatrix's hungry gaze involuntarily stilled them.

"Oh? I'd love for you to finish that sentence, _Fenrir_.", she said while mock-fluttering her eyes. Neville involuntarily shuddered, goosebumps trailing down his spine.

A flicker of irritation went through Harry's facial expression as he said coldly, "Don't waste time, Lestrange. Greyback, where's the captives?"

Bellatrix interjected with a smirk before Greyback could open his mouth, "They'll be here soon enough, _heir_. Why don't you make yourself useful and clear a space in the cellar for the newcomers?"

A colorful swear died on the tip of his tongue as Harry settled with a glare and strode off to the manor. As he went, Bellatrix called out to him, "Perhaps you can be the one to interrogate them for Master? Wouldn't want to delay your reunion with them!"

Neville didn't notice the way Harry's eyes glinted as he muttered, "I wouldn't either."

This time, Neville almost expected for the fourth snitch to come into his hand. While he knew experienced Legilimencers could find the memory that they wanted in a heartbeat, he wasn't one by a long stretch. The fact that he was getting these memories in particular as opposed to, say, Harry getting a haircut meant that someone had purposefully manipulated his memories to appear in sequence. Considering his options, Neville couldn't help but get suspicious and a little wary.

The appearance of another snitch interrupted his trepidation.

_March 30th, 1998. Malfoy Manor Basement._

* * *

_Memory Four_

If he was a lesser man Neville would have screamed in exasperation by now. However, Neville could wait. When Dumbledore had shown him, Ron, and Hermione the memories of Voldemort's past, it had taken them multiple memories in order for them to piece together the locations of all the horcruxes. All but one, which Dumbledore had a guess but never revealed prior to that fateful night at the Astronomy Tower.

The lighting dimmed as a familiar cellar scene appeared. Neville couldn't help but gasp as the forms of Ron and Hermione coalesced within it, curled up in fetal position. Their bodies spasmed occasionally with bouts of clear Cruciatus-induced aftershocks.

Unlike the last two cellar scenes, Harry was actually there from the start of this scene, arguing with a taller man. The taller man eventually growled and spun around, exiting the cellar with a dangerous glare. Clearly, he wasn't done with their disagreement.

Harry sighed and his tense shoulders relaxed a bit as he walked over to the two people in fetal positions. Luna crawled her way over to the closer of the two, Ron in this case.

"You two look worse and worse off every time we meet.", she said matter-of-factly as she brushed some dried blood out of Ron's hair.

Ron groaned in pain as the dried blood pulled on a freshly-formed scab on his head. Luna retracted her hand immediately, looking remorseful. Changing tack, she ripped a piece of fabric off her clothes and poured some water from her water bowl. Using the wet rag she began wiping the blood out of Ron's face. Not leaving Hermione out, she slid over to get into a position between the two and made a new rag to wipe her face as well.

Luna began humming a tune as she rocked the two, not unlike a mother would to her feverish child. Neville recognized the tune as something from a muggle composer, although he'd be lying if he said he knew from who. It had a conversational lilt to it, but Neville couldn't deny that it sounded melancholic.

"They can't hear or feel you, Lestrange placed a Sensory Deprivation charm on them before they got here.", Harry whispered softly, his eyes never leaving Luna's face.

Luna shook her head, "It's not about whether they know I'm here or not, they're my friends. What kind of friend would I be if I left them during their moment of vulnerability?"

Harry pursed his lips and looked away. An awkward pause, interrupted only by the unique timbre of Luna's humming, took place. As her song came to a slow and somber end, the silence strong-armed its way into the room, grabbing hold of all it's occupants.

Luna ended up being the one to break from the grip first, "What did the man from earlier want?"

Harry lowered his gaze, "They're assigning me to lead a raid later today. Bellatrix will take over as warden while I'm away."

It was clear from his tone that he didn't like it. Luna, too, picked it up and she asked, "You don't want to leave us? Or you don't want to kill innocent people?"

Harry didn't immediately reply. Luna didn't expect him to either. Nevertheless, she pressed on, asking the one question that Neville was dying to find out,

"Harry, why DID you decide to join Voldemort that day at the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly the cellar door banged open. The man from earlier shouted from the doorway, "Potter! Your group has assembled! Portkey is in a minute!", and then shut the door.

Harry took one look at Luna, his expression looking equal parts conflicted and relieved at the interruption. He made his way quickly to the door but paused at the door. Turning back, he waved his wand at the two forms at Luna's lap and muttered, "Finite", and left.

Right before the memory ended, Neville saw the brown eyes of Hermione flutter open. He swore under his breath as the memory passed without having actually answering any questions he had. Mercifully, a fifth snitch formed in his hand, wings fluttering slowly. However, just as he felt the snitch begin to open, he heard someone move behind him. Quickly, he shut his hand to prevent the snitch from opening.

"Who are you?", a voice said from behind. A very familiar one.

Neville immediately whirled around, unoccupied hand cocked and ready to deck him, only to pause at the sight in front of him.

It was Harry, appearing just like he did in the fifth year. However, he was missing a right arm from the shoulder down. Black speckles fluttered and fizzled out ephemerally from the gaping hole. His emerald green eyes, the brightest green Neville has ever seen and untouched by dark magic's red hue, were narrowed dangerously at Neville.

"Who are you? How did you get your hands on a snitch?"

Neville was very caught off guard. Any previous thoughts of finding ways to take down Harry immediately disappeared as he stared into the emerald depths of his friend's eyes. Said owner of the emerald eyes repeated his question, "How did you get your hands on a snitch?"

Neville looked at his left hand, the one with the golden ball fluttering wildly. It seemed indignant at being forced to close up. Neville stepped back from Harry, "Appeared in my hands."

Harry watched the golden ball with thinly veiled curiosity. There was something else in the gaze as well, but when he spoke his voice betrayed nothing but antagonism, "Give it here. You've no right to what's mine."

There was no way Neville was going to give it, and he opened his mouth to state as such. However, his brain finally caught up to Harry's earlier barrage of questions and his eyes widened, "Wait, Harry, you don't know who I am?"

"Don't play dumb with me, if you're in my mind that can only mean you're here to take my memories. Trying to find a way to kill me, no doubt.", Harry snapped angrily.

Neville's suddenly blank expression was all the confirmation Harry needed. He outstretched his hand and a wand appeared out of nowhere. Harry immediately pointed the wand at Neville's neck, stilling the other teen out of caution.

"I was right. Hand me the snitch, or you will not return to your body.", he commanded, eyes flashing in warning.

Neville's mind raced. So many unanswered questions that he had to ask Harry, most of which centered around how he looked and acted so...different. However, he couldn't discount the possibility that this was all just a trick to let down his guard. After a little inward debating, he hedged his bets on this Harry being different from the Harry outside.

"Harry, my name is Neville. We've been friends since first year, ever since you saved my Remembrall.", Neville said furtively.

Harry's arm slackened for a bit, elbow bending closer to the body. The moment of weakness passed quickly and he pointed the wand at Neville again.

"Don't remember that name, and even if I did that doesn't discount the fact that you've been digging through my head. What friend goes digging around their friend's head for answers when you could've just asked?", Harry ground out.

Neville shook his head fervently, "Listen, Harry, there's reasons why I can't ask your real self for the answers I need."

Harry let out a disbelieving scoff and said, "So what makes you think I'll answer them for you?"

 _Nothing, that's why I'm here digging through your memories,_ is what Neville WANTED to say. However, despite the mistrust between the two, Neville couldn't help but feel a small seed of hope sprouting in his heart. The fact that Harry didn't immediately hex him meant that there was a chance he wasn't dealing with outside Harry, but rather a Harry that's free from corruption. The Harry he went to school with.

 _This must be what Hermione was hoping for!_ , Neville realized with a shock. Tepid elation coursed through his body. Despite being held at wandpoint by both the outside version and dreamscape version of the person before him, Neville's compassion bloomed again.

"Harry, what's the last thing you remember?"

Harry's guarded expression wavered for a split second, but Neville caught it. He asked again, this time with more force

Harry's face soured. He paused for a split second until a figurative torch went off in his head, "Trying to take advantage of my disability to escape? Sorry, but nice try Neville."

He raised his arm to begin a spell.

"You've lost all your memories, haven't you Harry?", Neville quickly asked. Harry stilled, wand still in the air. Neville pressed on, "That's why you're trying to get this snitch. You can't remember anything, and you've been stuck here trying to get them back."

Harry's face paled considerably. His facade was on the verge of shattering. Neville stood there, tense in case Harry attempted to curse him for finding out. Eventually, Harry replied, speaking as if every word pained him to enunciate, "Pretend that's the case, what do you plan to do with that information?"

If Neville knew that he'd encounter an amnesiac Harry prior to going down memory lane, he would have seized on this moment of weakness. However, seeing the vulnerable look that Harry gave him now his thought process went in the opposite direction.

"Help you, what else?"

He outstretched the hand holding onto the snitch. It frantically flapped as if to get away from Harry, but Neville's firm grip prevented it from doing so. "Come on, take my hand."

Harry eyed the hand with suspicion. Sort of like a cat taking food from a stranger.

"How do I know this is not a trick?"

"Because I was once your friend."

Neville never noticed the rusted metal of this snitch, nor the faint dark smoke emitting from within.

_March 31, 1998. Malfoy Manor_

* * *

_Memory Five_

Neville and Harry fell on a wooden floor unceremoniously. The room seemed to have once been a study, lined with books all the way to the ceiling. However, the room was devoid of almost all furnishings, not even a table. A chandelier with floating candles hovered over Neville's head, providing a dim orange light. Helping Harry up, he looked around and immediately regretted it as he came face to face with red serpentine eyes, who's owner occupied the only chair in the room.

Neville swore and spun back around to tell Harry to watch out, when he saw Harry watching a bowed memory-Harry with a pensive look, occasionally flitting his eyes to look at Voldemort.

"Who is that man, Neville? Was I some sort of servant or something to him?"

 _NO_ was his reflexive answer, but thinking better of it, Neville replied cautiously, "Sort of. You didn't go to him willingly though."

Harry recoiled and glared at Neville suspiciously, "Go willingly? What does that mean?"

Neville suddenly felt very self-conscious about himself. He spent his entire seventh year trying to take over the reins of Dumbledore's Army. However, try as he might, his charisma just never seemed to click with everyone as Harry's did. People were much more prone to lose faith around him. Subconsciously, Neville looked up to (and even envied) his opponent's skill at making others believe. While Neville needed to lead with logic, Harry had led them by just being Harry - giving off a larger-than-life image whilst simultaneously appearing as humble as possible.

He laughed defeatedly. Even after nearly two years of considering him an enemy, it only took one conversation with an amnesiac to reduce Neville back to a blabbering child, always looking for approval.

_I guess that's what makes us different. You never cared for approval._

"It means that even after two years, I'm still nowhere close to you."

Harry's eyes widened and they settled into a look of concern for the blond-haired boy. Neville's dispirited facial expression only fell even more at that, "Look, uh, Neville. I'm sure you're plenty good at whatever it is you do! Well, at least you entered my head somehow!"

Neville's retort never came as the memory started with Voldemort's high-pitched voice rasping, "I've been disappointed yet again, _my heir_. It seems that under your watchful gaze, somehow the captives had managed to escape."

Memory-Harry's lips thinned but he didn't respond to the admonishment. Voldemort leaned forwards, "If you were a mere Death Eater I'd have you writhing on the floor for hours on end. You'd be begging for mercy, which would come only as a flash of green. I'm sure you witnessed what happened to Rowle."

"Yes, m'lord."

Voldemort stood up and snapped his fingers. Memory-Harry didn't move as the door to the chamber opened up and the sound of two pairs of footsteps and something dragging on the floor steadily increased in volume. Voldemort spoke as the new arrivals came in, betraying no emotion in his words, "When something goes wrong, something must be changed. Potter, every mission of yours has been a success. You've built up quite the reputation on mental torture and efficiency. I hear your skill on the Memory Charm and implanting false memories in particular can even turn brother against brother. However, two things have been brought to my attention."

A thud rang out as the luggage was dropped off on the laminated wood. Neville looked down and with a heavy heart realized that it was Luna, bound and gagged looking even worse than in the previous memories. A butterbeer cap necklace glinted from the dim candlelight. Memory-Harry's face looked pained as the two sets of footsteps left the room, shutting the door as they left.

"One, you have never been on a mission against a former classmate."

With a wave, he undid the gag on Luna, "And two, you've never killed anyone."

Memory-Harry's breathing quickened almost imperceptibly. Voldemort's red eyes gleamed with an animalistic malice, "The first is mostly my fault, I suppose. Who would've thought that my greatest enemies would be a bunch of schoolchildren? However, imagine my surprise when it has been brought to my attention that you always ordered someone else to do your dirty work. Are you simply incapable of casting the Killing Curse, Potter? Or…are you not quite as loyal as you claim to be?"

Voldemort lifted his wand out from his sleeve. Memory-Harry tensed, reaching for his wand as well, but relaxed briefly as Voldemort pointed his at Luna and muttered, " _Ennervate!_ "

As Luna's eyes began to flutter open, Voldemort continued his diatribe glibly, "It seems that in my haste to induct you as my heir and my equal, I have forsaken the usual method of ensuring your utmost loyalty to me. That must be rectified at once. Raise your wand and kill her."

Memory-Harry slowly walked over to Luna. Armless-Harry made a strangled sort of noise as he watched his counterpart point his wand at Luna. As his mouth opened, however, the doors to the chamber burst open as a Death Eater ran into the chamber, breathing heavily. Voldemort straightened up and looked at the newcomer with clear annoyance, "I believe my order was for complete privacy, Bellatrix?"

"T-The goblins, my lord! They report a b-break-in at Gringotts!"

Voldemort's red eyes widened and Neville suddenly found it hard to breath as waves of cold fury began filling the room. Scenes of drowning in a sea of blood wantonly danced across his vision. Armless-Harry, seemingly unfazed, placed a hand to steady Neville as he stared at Voldemort with burning green eyes.

"Bring them in."

Bellatrix quickly bowed out of the room. A few moments later, a troupe of goblins, each uglier than the next, walked in. Bellatrix tailed the troupe, still panting lightly from the exertion. The head goblin's nervous energy as he walked in only served to fuel Voldemort's rage.

Voldemort sat silently as Bellatrix prodded the lead goblin to tell the tale. The goblin, in between bouts of stuttering, relayed the events about how two Polyjuiced teens had snuck into the depths of the bank and made their way out on the back of a half-blind dragon.

Voldemort's eyes were practically slits by the end of it. The goblin guards raised their weapons cautiously in response, even as their widened eyes and beading sweat belayed their true emotion.

"And what has been taken?"

"A c-cup, my lor —"

The goblin never got to finish the sentence because a brief flash of light later, his eyes turned glassy and he fell on his side. The goblins yelled out in fright and immediately charged the Dark Lord, only to fall one by one to the same fate. Bellatrix spun around and fled out of the room hastily as the guards fell, not wanting to be another testament to the Dark Lord's wrath.

Very soon, the room became eerily quiet. Memory-Harry, who had remained motionless the entire time, said nothing as Voldemort paced back and forth in front of him, face transfixed into a permanent snarl. Eventually, he stopped and looked up at the ceiling.

"I must secure the others immediately. Nagini!"

The massive snake, previously unseen by Neville, slowly came down from rafters in the ceiling. Voldemort caressed the head of the snake almost lovingly, whispering, "You are never to leave my sight again, my precious pet."

Nagini bowed her head almost in a nodding fashion. Neville internally mused at how human-like the serpent's response had been.

 _Of course it is, it's a horcrux!,_ said a small voice in his head.

Voldemort turned his attention to memory-Harry, eyes glinting as he hissed, "I didn't forget about you, Potter. Those friends of yours have somehow stumbled upon one of my closest guarded secrets, another of which you possess. If it weren't for the vows you took, I'd have suspected YOU for treachery."

He got up in memory-Harry's face, sneering at him hatefully, "After all, that isn't an unknown concept to you."

Memory-Harry looked visibly sick.

"M-M'Lord, I would never betray you. I have already cut my ties with them —I have nothing to go back to."

Voldemort's sneer never left as he straightened up, "Quite. And don't you forget that. However, I would love to not be seen as the last choice by someone that the prophecy said would be my equal. Seeing as you are right now, I am simultaneously disgusted at you while being wary of your true loyalties. However, I cannot afford to kill you for you still hold one of my horcru—"

Voldemort paused abruptly as his eyes widened, "Of course, you are a horcrux."

What came next will forever haunt Neville's dreams. Voldemort threw back his head and _LAUGHED_. The rasping high pitched sound of his laughter echoed around the chamber, travelling like a wraith amongst the shelves.

"Potter, I have just thought of the most perfect way for you to prove your worth."

With a flick of his wand, a mahogany table appeared in front of memory-Harry. An obsidian dagger, inlaid with runes from the hilt down, materialised on the floor next to him. Neville could practically feel the dark magic coming off of the conjured items, ensnaring every person in the room in a terrible quicksand.

Memory-Harry visibly flinched as, even in the dim lighting of the chamber, Neville could tell that his skin turned pale as snow.

"Ah, yes. I do believe that you have been acquainted with this setup during one of our tutoring sessions last year."

Memory-Harry stiffly nodded, fear-stricken eyes never leaving the dagger. Neville looked questioningly at armless-Harry, who only shook his head at his unspoken question. Neither of them dared to make a noise.

"Your friend here offers the perfect opportunity, Potter. Prove to me you are worthy of the prophecy!"

Memory-Harry raised his arm almost robotically. His hair covered his eyes, preventing anyone from peering in. Luna's silvery eyes half-lidded in resignation as memory-Harry uttered the curse in the smallest voice possible,

" _Avada Kedavra"_

Armless-Harry shouted, "NO!", reaching out to grab memory-Harry's arm. However, his hand phased through his counterpart's without resistance. A green flash of light filled the room as Neville looked away, unable to bear the sight.

A dull thud. One slightly too drawn-out for just a head thumping on the floor.

"WHAT HAVE YOU— _CRUCIO!_ "

Memory-Harry's eyes lit up in a fiery rage even as he fell over in agony. Neville's jaw slackened in horror as blood pooled out of memory-Harry's mouth and ears as he screamed in pain. Voldemort rushed over to the fallen snake and held it, looking for any signs of life from the serpent. A faint smell of rotting started filling the room as if the snake was never meant to be alive and it was now turning into its rightful state.

Voldemort slowly straightened up, angry torrents of dark energy billowing from his body as he unleashed his fury. His face twisted into the most frightening visage Neville had ever seen, displaying naught but promising a fate worse than death to any that crossed him.

And judging from what he had seen, memory-Harry had not only crossed the line, he obliterated it as he did so.

"I see normal methods are not enough to guarantee your loyalty, Potter. Your defiance will not go unrewarded.", hissed Voldemort angrily.

A cruel smile slowly split Voldemort's pale face as he pointed his wand at Luna, "Compassion is a weakness. It's time to show you why. _CRUCIO_!"

Luna began screaming as the spell took hold, writhing in pain against her bindings. Neville's every instinct yearned and begged him to look anywhere else, but he somehow couldn't look away from the twitching mass that his friends were reduced to. Somehow, his hatred for the Dark Lord grew even more.

Voldemort sneered with glee as he watched the two writhe on the floor. He kneeled down next to Harry and whispered hatefully, "You caused this, you caused her to be in pain. One last chance, kill her. Or would you rather I send in Bellatrix to continue this...session?"

Memory-Harry coughed out a globule of blood as the Cruciatus continued to work it's way through Harry's system. Voldemort lifted the curse and asked impatiently, "Well?"

Green eyes looked up at Voldemort's red ones, reflecting their searing hatred back at them tenfold. He replied coldly, "You are lucky I cannot kill you. However, that doesn't mean I can't—"

A weak voice caused his rant to die down immediately, "Harry, you're stupid."

Memory-Harry flinched as Luna continued with a hoarse but strangely steady voice, "Being delusional doesn't suit you, I doubt Voldemort would leave any holes in whatever he's using to bind you. No, what you need to do is to give me a good send off."

Ignoring Voldemort's surprised look, memory-Harry shook his head and whispered fervently, "I can't! Luna, I can think of a way to get you out, we just need some time."

Luna's blood-streaked lips curled into a small smile, "Did the nargles take your brain, Harry? I hope they return it soon, you act really stupid without one."

"Damn it, this isn't the time for your...nonsense!"

"Then don't be a hypocrite, Harry.", replied Luna with an edge that Neville never heard before. Her silvery eyes turned to steel as she said with a note of finality, "Do me a favor and kill me. I can only ignore the Cruciatus for so long."

Neville gasped. _Wait, she's still under the Cruciatus? How can she be so lucid under that curse for so long?!_

As if sensing Neville's question (although in reality, it's more so memory-Harry's shocked look), she replied ruefully, "You didn't think I actually believed in those fanciful creatures, did you? They all came from a fantastic children's book, long out of print. My mum read that to me as a bedtime story as a kid.

When she died, I wept for days. Subconsciously, I knew that nothing could fill that hole. So, I coped by saying she was taken from me by a wrackspurt infestation. Then, when they took away her stuff, I told myself nargles stole them."

Luna let loose a hollow, slightly manic laugh. Neville shuddered. Such a sound shouldn't have come from Luna's mouth.

"I thought school would provide enough distractions from my pain, but my house provided no solace. I thought I could finally let my guard down, allow others into my life. The only thing that awaited me were endless nargles taking my belongings and hiding them in other people's dorms."

Memory-Harry, unsure of what else to do, placed a hand on Luna's shoulder. Voldemort looked on impassively, anger since superseded by a maliciously curious gaze as if trying to dissect Luna with his eyesight.

"Harry, before my fourth year I was lonely. Ginny kept me company, but she only stayed with me during study sessions. When the DA formed, I thought I finally found friends. When I met you, I thought I finally found someone genuine, someone that I can finally let down the facade. You didn't care that I spoke of creatures unknown, for all you cared about was to live a normal life."

Luna's right arm started spasming uncontrollably. She seemingly didn't notice it, for her eyes were on memory-Harry's unwaveringly, "When you left us, guess what Harry? I could no longer cope. It's one thing to be disappointed when I had no expectations, it's entirely another to be let down by someone I thought I could trust. I broke. That jail sentence down in the cellar, it was like a hotel. Finally, I didn't have to hide from my problems, for I was already experiencing the worst."

She shook her head with a defeated lip curl, eyes trailing away from memory-Harry's to look at the dead corpse of Nagini, "When you came back into my life, I found myself suddenly desperate. I allowed myself to hope again. Not in being set free, Merlin no, but I was hoping that I knew Harry Potter, that it wasn't all just a facade. I don't fear death, Harry, I fear that I went through my life without getting to know someone."

Her eyes returned to memory-Harry's. Neville choked on a breath as he saw the eyes of an emotionally shattered soul. They brimmed with the unshed tears from years of torment bottled up.

 _It's no wonder the Cruciatus seems like child's play to her_ , Neville thought bitterly.

"Consider this my second to last request. Did I know the true Harry Potter? Or was it just a means to whatever end you were hoping for?"

"Luna, listen I— "

"A simple yes or no, Harry."

Memory-Harry took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Luna's entire form relaxed as she beamed, looking every bit like the Luna they knew. However, this time she looked positively radiant, as if an invisible weight lifted off her shoulders.

"Thank you. Then you should know what my final request is."

Memory-Harry nodded slowly, his eyes leaking with unbidden tears as he pointed his wand at Luna's head.

Luna's eyes lolled into the back of her head as she slumped on the floor. Memory-Harry, trembling with grief, lowered his wand for a brief second. Then, he screamed as his heart tore asunder in grief at the unfairness in the world.

Voldemort finally spoke up, "She was strong where you are weak. She hated the world and it was her hatred that provided her strength. A lesson you would do well to abide by."

"Shut up. You got what you wanted."

Memory-Harry picked up the prone form of Luna with nary a huff, placing it down right next to the mahogany table. Eyes burning with grief and hatred for everything, he picked up the obsidian dagger and plunged it right into his right arm.

Black shadows erupted from the wound as soon as the dagger broke the skin. As they engulfed his body, memory-Harry glared balefully at Voldemort, "Whatever you plan on doing, I will be fighting you every step of the way."

Voldemort's lip curled, "I will make sure you never escape then. Your body will be your own prison."

Suddenly, everything began warping like plastic in a convection oven. As the memory gasped it's last, Neville saw a pair of red-stained emerald eyes.

* * *

_Memory-scape_

This time, Neville found himself unmoved by the teleportation. It was as if only the scenery changed, not that he himself was being moved. Harry suddenly spoke up, "That's what happened with my arm. I split it off."

Neville, surprised, asked, "Did you get your memories back?"

Harry shook his head and replied slowly, "Magic is ingrained in us. Every spell we cast leaves an imprint on our magical core, no matter how insignificant. I may not know the name, but I do know the effects. Somehow, I managed to split my magic with that dagger, and it manifested as me losing an arm in this plane."

Neville nodded thoughtfully, eyes tracking a particularly fast snitch as it zoomed by, "So then what do—wait, split your magic?! Like a horcrux!", he exclaimed with a horrified shout.

Harry cocked his head side to side like a curious ten year old boy, as if rolling around the name in his head, "Horcrux...oh yes, a horcrux! My missing arm's a horcrux!"

"Harry, a horcrux is the darkest of dark magic. They say the creation of one damages your heart and soul irreparably, because the creation of one is meant to mean you value living above all else."

Harry laughed despairingly. Neville idly realized that it was identical to the one Luna let out in the final memory.

"Damn, and to think I was looking forward to death too. Yet another thing to blame on Voldemort, I suppose.", he said in a falsely calm tone. Then, in a much lower, more somber voice he asked, "Why did you come here? What's really going on outside right now? Did I really fall under that bastard's thumb?"

Neville hesitantly nodded. Harry pursed his lips, "He's definitely got some way to control me while my soul is in tatters. The only way I can think of getting Voldemort out is to get the piece of my soul back."

"Harry, you're ignoring the fact that neither of us knows what your horcrux actually is", replied Neville irritably.

Harry despondently replied, "It could be literally anything —wait, Neville! How did you get in here?"

A perturbed Neville replied, "Legilimency, why?"

Harry's eyes gleamed, "Legilimency gives you the memories you seek and nothing more! Tell me, what were you looking for when you came in?"

"A-a way to kill you. Sorry Harry, I didn't know what you truly thought about Voldemort."

Harry waved him off in his excitement, "Considering everything that's understandable. But that means that there has to be the location of my horcrux somewhere in one of those memories you saw! I'm sure you've seen more than one judging from how you've been treating me, a supposed enemy. What did they all have in common?"

Neville thought carefully.

"Malfoy Manor. But that's no—"

Harry nodded fervently, "Yes, Malfoy Manor! It has to be somewhere there!"

"Harry, we're in Hogwarts right now.", deadpanned Neville with a grunt, "How will I get to Malfoy Manor and back in time?"

Harry's smile almost turned feral, "Portkeys. I'll make you one to the Manor. Just get back with my horcrux!"

As Harry's mindscape began disappearing, Neville called out, "What do you think it could be?!"

"Something sentimental! I don't have my memories, but I would like to think I'm not a facetious person!"


	2. Falling Behind

While Neville quickly spiraled out of existence, Harry's countenance grew somber. In truth, he wanted to give Neville a false sense of bravado. He had no idea how to get control of his body back, but he knew that he had to find the aspect of Voldemort controlling his body.

As he traversed through the graveyard, he noticed that his surroundings began taking on a pallor that the previous ones didn't. For every meter he went, more and more gravestones popped up with gnarled brambles surrounding them. A putrid stench akin to rotting flesh creeped up his nostrils. Holding his breath as much as he can, Harry soon came upon a large mausoleum amidst the darkest patch of gravestones. Surrounding it buzzed a hive of black snitches clambering over each other to move nowhere in particular.

Harry got the distinct feeling he found exactly what he was looking for. That didn't stop him from getting apprehensive though as he gingerly walked into the mausoleum.

Harry expected the inside to match the outside, dark and dreary with a haunted feeling. He didn't expect to step foot into what seemed like a regular house. Windows allowed a warm summer sun to flood the inside, revealing a cozy hallway. Off to the left, he saw a neat little kitchen with a white dining table, plates and utensils already set. A baby's seat replaced one of the dining chairs.

"You recognize our home?", a very familiar voice asked from the end of the hallway. Harry scowled as a mirror image of himself appeared with a condescending smirk. The only things that set them apart were his blood-red eyes and an extra arm.

"Voldemort.", Harry acknowledged with a hiss. He flicked his wand out with a flourish in trepidation. Voldemort's red eyes trailed the wand with a bemused expression.

"Good, I don't have to play pretend.", he drawled, "Not that I really needed to, for you have yet again exceeded even my expectations."

Harry blew out some air through clenched teeth, "Don't play with me Voldemort. Give me control of my body back or I'll find a way to destroy your horcrux."

Voldemort glided over menacingly, not even flinching as a spell went through him unhindered, "Potter, no one can control another body against the owner's will. That is why we use the Imperious, to bend the owner against their will."

His lips curled as he pulled his sleeve up. Harry's breath hitched as he saw the stitching and seam where the shoulder and arm connect.

"That—"

"Yes.", Voldemort said, not bothering to elaborate further. He opened and closed the hand to show Harry with a twisted smile, "Funny thing about a horcrux is, they are mere images of your soul. They THINK you and them are the same, but they will only ever be a shadow of your true self. However, it is enough to trick your body into handing over control to one."

Harry's blood ran cold. If Voldemort was using the horcrux to control him, that means—

The cursed high-pitched laugh rang out, "I have chosen well for my second-in-command. Loyalty can always be induced, but drive and deduction skills are innate. Tell me, how well do you think he'll fare against five Death Eaters?"

Harry sent the most poisonous look he could muster at the imposter even as his mind whirred with worry for Neville. However, a nagging feeling scratched the back of his mind endlessly, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why? I have no need to hide any information from my second-in-command, not while he WILLINGLY helps me."

Harry took a step back, "W-what?"

Suddenly it didn't seem like such a good idea to charge into this place without any sort of plan.

"Potter, tell me. What is the _true_ reason why you came here today? Was it because you sympathised with Longbottom? Or was it because I made you kill your friend?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out. It was true. Seeing himself being forced to kill Luna made him angry.

"It is not only you that inhabits this body, Potter. I have seen events unfold from your eyes as well. I see the self-satisfaction at a mission well done. I see the mind-wipes to indoctrinate others to our cause, the torture of those that cannot be convinced. Theonly reason why you are here is to get revenge on me for making you kill. Your friend Neville may have been 'noble', but you, you are as twisted as I am."

Voldemort's sibilant laugh chilled Harry to his bone.

"Potter, you are a loose end. Given time, you would have been a fantastic second-in-command, but I am impatient. I cannot have my horcrux in the hands of someone that has yet to bend fully to my will. Controlling you with your blasted butterbeer-cap necklace has prevented me from finishing this farce in person, and I will not be halted by some boy's impudent wish for revenge. Hogwarts will bow to no one but me!"

The only warning Harry received was the sudden thud of Voldemort's grafted arm, before his mind was suddenly assaulted by a cold sea of evil. He tried fighting it, but the surprise took him by storm and Harry soon found his vision blanking out. Dimly he saw an arm forming from the shoulder blade down on his own body, this one paler and more skeletal than Harry's own.

 _ **This ends NOW, Potter! You are mine at last!**_ _,_ shouted a triumphant voice that was distinctly not his own.

 _N-no! Get out of my head!_ , angrily replied Harry. He had to warn Neville, stop him from going to Malfoy Manor and make sure that he knew what was going on.

_**Neville will not help you if he knew what I know.** _

Even as he could feel his own legs moving against his will, he tugged forcefully against the specter's dark magic. Every fiber in his body screamed as his body ambled it's way to the room at the end of the corridor. A blinding light leaked out from under the gap in the door, one that showed it wasn't just an ordinary room.

_**Resistance will yield nothing, Potter. However, I am naught if not magnanimous. You wish to get your memories back? You will get them.** _

Harry couldn't react. Try as he might, their legs no longer listened to him as they opened the door and light enveloped their body.

* * *

_Hogwarts_

Harry's head throbbed as the merger between Voldemort's horcrux and his fractured soul took place. Memories, both his and not, mixed with each other in an unnatural melting pot. Foreign feelings swirled endlessly in a cacophonous growl that prevented him from thinking anything clearly. Suddenly, he remembered. He was in a battle.

He opened his eyes to see a fairly plump blonde-haired boy looking at him with anxiety. The sounds of large-scale duelling raged around them as the boy looked raised his wand at Harry.

"You're with us, right Harry?", he ventured slowly.

 _NO!_ , screamed a small voice in his head desperately.

 _ **Yes.**_ , said a much louder, more assertive voice. Having no reason not to listen to the louder voice, he dipped his head to the boy. _Neville_ , a memory told him. Neville's wand arm lowered in relief.

"Thank goodness, Harry. Listen, we're trying to buy time for us to carry out the plan. Give me the Portkey and stay low, keep them occupied long enough for me to get back."

_**Do it. Get him to Malfoy Manor.** _

Harry mechanically nodded and plucked a hair from his head. He muttered the charm and threw the newly-made Portkey over. It activated the second it contacted Neville's hand.

Mere seconds later, Neville Portkey'd back. Only, his eyes were hollowed, unseeing to the world around them.

As his lifeless husk tumbled to the floor, face permanently transfixed into a shocked look, the inhabitants of the castle could only gape in abject horror. However, in their moment of grief the Death Eaters fired a volley of curses at them, breaking through almost immediately. Several were killed in a matter of seconds.

_**Good, good. We have done well.** _

Harry grinned maliciously as he watched the defences collapse.

The battle was over as soon as it started. All that's left was to clean up the pieces. Harry only wondered why a strange feeling of melancholy and depression filled his heart as he killed the remaining defenders one by one, their names flashing through his head as he cut them down easily.

_Percy. Mrs. Weasley. Hermione. Ron._

Soon enough, the last remaining defenders gave up. Without any of their leaders, they had no one to rally behind. The ghosts hung around mournfully as the remaining few marched out of the castle in a single file line, flanked on both sides by Death Eaters. Harry noted curiously the dulled look in their eyes almost uniformly changed to looks of betrayal and anger as they passed him. Their feet clanged as they walked, courtesy of the iron shackles clamped to their ankles.

He didn't have time to dwell because the Dark Lord himself made his presence known. His _Sonorus_ -enhanced voice carried across the grounds like a gust of Arctic wind, bone-chilling and a promise of dark days to come.

"Defenders of Hogwarts, you had been given a choice. Earlier you flaunted my generous offer so willingly, and now you cower. Thankfully, I am a merciful lord, I understand that many of you have been led astray by the promises of waylaid children. Thus, I will offer those of you with pure blood one last chance to prove yourselves to me."

The shackles fell off the pure-blooded captives as he said that. Voldemort continued his command sadistically, "Kill those of impure blood and those not of magical blood. Your performance will be judged by my followers for whether you have redeemed yourselves."

"Sod off!", shouted one of the freed captives, _George_ , thought Harry.

Voldemort didn't deign him any attention as he continued, "Punish those who disobey, and I promise you will be rewarded!"

He needn't say more as quite a few of the freed people seemed to be looking around with a hungry gleam in their eyes. One in particular snuck up on George and socked him in the head. _Cormac McLaggen_.

As the pure bloods quickly turned on one another, Voldemort strode past them to approach Harry, placing a bony hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Potter, for we have much to discuss."

Harry inclined his head robotically and followed Voldemort back into the castle. His feet plodded heavily on the cobblestone path.

* * *

_Hogwarts_

Wind from damaged rafters whistled through the tattered remains of the school curtains as the two Dark wizards walked past. Voldemort strode past the rubble without a second thought as Harry followed mutely. Inside his head, his feelings were in turmoil. Whilst he SHOULD have been elated once they won, he wasn't. He couldn't feel anything, almost as if someone had robbed him of his ability to feel.

Yet again, a familiar voice in his head said something. Whatever it was, he couldn't hear it. It sounded mournful though.

_**Ignore that. Emotions aren't something we need. The only thing worth fighting for is power.** _

"We?", muttered Harry as his eyes darted to the fallen jewels of the Gryffindor hourglass. Someone had taken the liberty of introducing a Reductor to it during the battle, it seemed.

Harry found himself being led up a familiar staircase to an office he recognised all too well. The gargoyle had already stepped aside once the Dark Lord revealed his presence. As they stepped into the headmaster's office, Harry could hear the undeniable hissing sounds from the portraits as the echos of headmasters past showed their clear disdain for the Dark Lord. Voldemort ignored the angry drawings and directed his attention to the sole figure in the room,

"Severus, a wonderful sight to see you. I hope the traitorous professors caused no lasting damage?"

The greasy-haired man had his lips in a thin line. His dark eyes darted between the Dark Lord and Harry repeatedly as he slowly made out his reply, "None but a few cuts on the way out, m'lord. Has the battle been to your liking?"

"Very much so. Severus, I couldn't help but notice that I didn't see you at all today. To what do I owe this absence today?"

There was something to Snape that Harry couldn't quite place. It wasn't readily apparent in his physical demeanour (aside from the way his eyes kept darting back and forth), but something about how he spoke seemed tenser than normal. Almost like there was something bothering him immensely but he could not express it.

"M'Lord, I am but your loyal servant. I was taking down the wards to the castle for you, something that I believe your lieutenant here had found very useful during his attack."

Voldemort didn't look for Harry's affirmation as his lips curled approvingly, "Good, very good. Certain members of my inner circle believed you to be working against them while Headmaster of this school, but I see that my trust in them has been misplaced."

Snape bowed his head so his greasy hair cascaded in front of his eyes, "I am humbled by your trust, m'Lord."

"Don't be, Severus, for I am in need of your assistance. A dilemma has made itself known to me, and it involves your former student here. Tell me Severus, you have served me well over many years and your counsel has always been invaluable. What is your true opinion regarding my lieutenant, Harry Potter?", Voldemort asked smoothly, his expression revealing only the slightest hint of morbid curiosity.

Snape's expression turned stony as he replied haughtily, "He took after his father in his stubbornness to flout the rules of this castle. He seemed to have a complete disregard for authority figures, and had displayed no talent in any course of study aside from Defense Against the Dark Arts. That is, of course, until he came under your wing, m'Lord. I have nothing but praise for his most recent endeavours. I heard Potter had tracked down and took out many of your enemies prior to today. A most fortuitous series of events that lead to today being so...straightforward."

Voldemort looked sideways at Harry and commented, "Your assessment isn't incorrect, Severus. However, I believe that you are mistaken about the second part. See, Harry here never did quite come to our side."

Snape and Harry simultaneously stiffened.

_What is he talking about? I have been nothing but loyal!_

Voldemort's gaze never left Harry. Neither did his hand, Harry suddenly realized.

"You've noticed, haven't you? Ever since I managed to merge my soul into yours, it has been extremely easy to read your thoughts. All it requires is a single touch. Severus, you're aware of what I believe traitors to be deserving of."

Snape's forehead glistened with sweat as he replied, "Death, m'Lord. But sir, you yourself assured us of his loyalty."

Voldemort finally tore his gaze from Harry's face and replied smoothly, "Yes, Severus. Potter here came to me in the Department of Mysteries, begging for his friends' life. He offered his servitude in exchange for everyone to be spared. I believed his spirit to be broken, enough for me to guide him to the correct path through the connection I'm sure you're aware of."

Severus gave a murmur of assent. His eyes finally stopped darting between the two, deciding to focus on the Dark Lord instead.

"Who would have thought that a mere teenager would have nearly outsmarted me? The vows we made him swear, he found a loophole in every single one. He allowed captives to escape by reassigning the guards. He refused to kill anyone and allowed known blood traitors to run free."

There was a flicker of... _something_ in Snape's otherwise tense countenance, "But m'Lord, what of the events of today? Surely all the reports have been truthful?"

Voldemort sneered at the dour look on Phineas Black, "That is the crux of this dilemma. This...improved behavior only came about because I willed him to. Even so, I have been unable to fully subdue the rebelliousness. Thus, I have deemed him unworthy to carry on the title as heir. This is where you come in, Severus."

The Dark Lord flicked his wand and all the furnishings and decorations, paintings aside, vanished. If Snape was irritated that his belongings were removed, he didn't show it. A second wand flick conjured up a cauldron, already filled with a boiling orange pus-like substance. It smelled of carrion.

Harry didn't even register the smell for he was trying to figure out what exactly the Dark Lord wanted to do. From the sounds of it, it wasn't good. He had to find a way out.

_**Spoken like a true traitor. Unfortunately for you, I'M in control.** _

Harry suddenly found himself standing rigid. The sudden movement caught Snape's eye, but he quickly averted his gaze and returned to staring at the pot of boiling ketchup. Voldemort stared at the pot triumphantly, "The Noctuque potion. It's only missing a few ingredients, Severus I believe you know what they are?"

Snape's breath caught in his throat as he replied, "M-my lord? The Noctuque potion was meant to transfer consciousness into an object, I don't see how this— "

Voldemort impatiently cut him off, "I am your Lord, Severus, your status as my most trusted servant does not mean you can treat me as anything but that. Answer the question."

Snape allowed the ghost of irritation to grace his face for just a moment before he schooled his emotions, "Blood of the most loyal, and the person and object to which it needs to be transferred to."

Voldemort nodded, although it felt like he hadn't quite forgotten Snape's brief act of impropriety. He conjured up a double-edged knife and threw the knife at Snape's feet. Snape picked it up as Voldemort summoned the soon-to-be horcrux, a sword with a jewelled handle.

"I have missed having an item of Gryffindor as one of my most prized items.", Voldemort said wistfully as he gazed at the silver blade.

"This will be a fitting end to your sorry story, Potter. A Gryffindor forever trapped in their House's sword, slowly having your life force drained away as my horcrux takes root. This sword will be the catalyst of a new beginning, the start of my ascension."

He threw the sword into the pot right as Snape sliced his arm directly over the pot. He missed the gleam in Snape's eyes as the two items landed into the roiling liquid.

The liquid quickly frothed as the pot began to shake. Harry stumbled back as the cauldron's cast-iron walls began cracking from the bottom up. Suddenly, the cauldron glowed white and exploded.

* * *

Harry felt very light-headed. A haze had descended on his head preventing any coherent thought from forming. It was like floating in a cloud of soup. Nevertheless, this was the clearest his mind has ever been in days.

_Wait...am I dead? Did Voldemort fail?_

"Harry."

_...Luna?_

"Harry, get up!"

_Luna? How…_

He woke up. He quickly wished he hadn't for the entire world was different shades of white, blinding him momentarily.

"L-Luna?!", Harry exclaimed while squinting. He could actually make out several figures in the distance, but he couldn't care less about the others. He only had eyes for the girl in front of him.

Luna playfully grinned and pulled Harry up to stand next to her, "For someone that had just died, you're really into playing dead."

His jaw dropped as her figure came into view, her fair skin completely blemish-free. It was like the day he met her. Even better, for her straggly hair had somehow been straightened out. She even had her bottle cap necklace on.

Harry couldn't handle it. He choked down a sob, not able to bear looking at Luna's face anymore, "You're not Luna. Luna's dead."

Luna's grip on his hand tightened, causing him to yelp in pain. He looked indignantly at Luna, "What wa—"

He trailed off as he noticed his waxy thin arm.

"Harry, stop staring at your arm and look at me."

Luna jerked Harry's head up with her other hand, forcing him to stare into the silvery depths of the girl he murdered. Their faces were mere centimetres away from each other.

Luna said simply, "You're being dim. I asked you to kill me. It's not a cruelty to let someone go on their own terms."

Harry turned his head away glibly.

Luna let go of Harry and she scowled at him, "So, what do you think was so unexpected? Your torture of our classmates? Your killing of our friends?"

Harry recoiled back, batting away her grip. He took several steps back, "How do you know that?"

Luna's brow furrowed. She replied softly, "The dead tell no lies, Harry."

A brief moment of silence passed between the two. Harry's gaze wandered around the station, from the brick columns to the train tracks. The only thing it missed were the bustle of people going about their day.

"So...this is heaven then?"

Luna shook her head, replying amusedly, "Heaven in a train station, even for you that's a bit unimaginative. No, Harry, this isn't Heaven. This is the in-between."

As if agreeing with Luna, one of the train's whistles tooted. He saw what seemed to be Snape leaning against the window of the train, gazing ahead without really looking. He looked like he was in his teens again, his nose not quite as hook-shaped and his face devoid of frown lines.

"Where'd Ron and Hermione go? The rest of the people from the battle?", Harry asked apprehensively. Luna waved in the direction of where the trains departed, "They went onwards a long time ago. Time passes more slowly here."

He nodded sadly. It was for the better. He was going to ask Luna something, but was interrupted by a shouting match heard down the platform. As Harry turned to look, Luna grasped his hand tight and said, "That's Fate talking to Voldemort. You don't want to get in her way right now, she's very irate."

Harry turned and watched a woman in a white tunic loudly reprimand...nothing. At least, at first he thought it was nothing. Soon he realized that there was a small red object in front of the woman. An identical one was being held by her in her arms as she continued her fiery tirade. He commented morosely, "All those decades of ruining people's lives finally caught up to him. I hope he gets what he deserves."

Luna pursed her lips and thumbed one of the caps on her necklace, "I don't think that's all Fate's angry about."

Suddenly, the train station rocked as the sound of a thunderclap echoed throughout. Luna wove her arms into Harry's right arm as they struggled to maintain their footing.

The red object on the floor had disappeared, leaving a red mist floating precariously in the distance. Harry looked on worriedly, unsure of what Luna was referring to.

The corner of Luna's lips curved downwards, "She likes judging everyone, see if they're worthy of going on or not."

Harry's heart sank. He had killed numerous people in that last battle and ruined the lives of many more. Even before being possessed, destroying the livelihoods of Mud— _Muggleborns_ and blood traitors slowly grew a sadistic side to him. It unhinged him, made him prone to bouts of cruelty. He _LIKED_ torturing Dean Thomas before the Snatchers locked him up. The screams, the begging were like music to his ears as he held onto the Cruciatus for hours on end.

Harry felt like a kid standing in front of a shattered cookie jar. Only, the cookie jar was peoples' lives. He kept his inner self so he could one day get back control from Voldemort, not for some noble redemption reason.

As if she could read Harry's inner thoughts, Luna patted Harry on the head, "Don't worry, I'm sure Fate won't be too harsh on you. You didn't mean to do the things you did. She's a deity, she can peer into your soul and see what you truly meant to do."

Harry recoiled from the touch like her hand would brand him, "No, Luna. If she can do that then I have no hope."

Luna looked at him critically. Her steely gaze made Harry feel like he was being probed, like he was being studied. Harry averted her gaze, not able to handle the eventual look of disappointment that would grace her serene face.

"Harry, you truly are an idiot.", she said matter-of-factly, before giggling. Harry's head whipped up at that, eyes widened. Before he could say anything though, a gust of wind and an oppressive air signalled that they were no longer alone.

"Sorry for interrupting, Missus Lovegood, but I have a job to do.", a strict, but airy voice commanded. It reminded Harry of McGonagall's. Her facial features were perfect in every way, if by perfect they meant aristocratic. Her high cheekbones and hawkish hazel eyes were accentuated by brown hair that cascaded all the way down to her backside. The scent of ozone wafted off her in droves, the only sign that the woman in front of him was no ordinary woman.

In her arms was a baby. A very deformed, malnutritioned baby with Harry's face.

Luna curtsied at Fate and stepped backwards, allowing Fate to observe Harry unhindered. His eyes never left the deformed baby in her arms.

"Harry James Potter, how could someone so pure end up so twisted as to create this abomination?", she asked softly.

His lips thinned at the sight of the infant, quietly mewling in her arms.

"Horcruxes are the ultimate perversion of magic, created by dark wizards who have forsaken their humanity in the pursuit of immortality. But I'm sure you've known all of that when you made it.", she said, her piercing brown eyes looking directly at Harry.

He nodded mutely.

"Tell me, why would someone with no interest in living forever create one?"

Harry's gaze darted to Luna's, who nodded encouragingly, "...to stay alive. If I refused, Voldemort would have killed me immediately. I cannot hope to get the drop on the Dark Lord, even if I was personally trained by him."

Fate sighed dramatically, making Harry's insides churn. He felt like an insect to her, and somehow he got the feeling he disappointed her. She replied testily, "I recall a certain quote from your godfather when he interrogated Mr. Pettigrew. Something about preferring death over betraying those you love."

Harry suddenly found Fate's white tunic very interesting as he muttered, "People change. I changed."

As his gaze drifted to his skeletal arm, he asked, "Where did Voldemort go? He didn't go on to the same afterlife as my parents and friends right?"

Fate replied with a crooked smile, "No, he's made too many wrong choices in his life and his soul was shattered beyond any semblance of the whole. Tom Marvolo Riddle no longer exists in this realm."

"By saying his soul was shattered, you mean the horcruxes he's made?"

Fate nodded curtly.

"Then", Harry said, eyes filled with self-loathing and determination, "don't waste your time. End me as well."

**SLAP**

Harry stumbled away, face sporting a new red handprint. Luna's hand remained outstretched, trembling as it's owner shook with a fury Harry's never seen from her, "When did you become such a _COWARD_ , Harry?!"

Nursing his bruised cheek, Harry shot back angrily, "When I realized being brave only results in ruining peoples' lives! Or did you forget Sirius DYING in the Department of Mysteries? I led him to his death because I wanted to be a hero!"

He lowered his voice as fresh unbidden tears threatened to burst forth, "Every time I tried to be a hero, I ended up getting people in the hospital or, worse, dead. And for what? Voldemort still rose, and the only reason why he's even dead is because of a stupid potion accident!"

Fate's hand suddenly rose, cutting off Luna's retort with a swift motion, "That was no accident. That potion required the blood of a loyal servant, which Severus Snape was not. A turncoat and loyal underling of Dumbledore to the very end, he knew the addition of a traitor's blood would cause the potion to violently reject it."

Harry snorted, "Even Snape ended up doing more to win than I did, and I was the 'Chosen One'."

"Do you have any idea how pitiful you sound right now?", Luna asked coldly, "You really think nothing you do will ever work out? Then explain to me how you managed to train half our year in Defense Against the Dark Arts so we all passed our OWLs during a year with Umbridge as professor!"

"Most of you died because of your association to that group, Luna.", Harry fought back.

"And it was our choice. You didn't force us, we willingly fought against Voldemort. I know wrackspurts aren't real but now I'm not too sure, because you definitely seem full of them right now!", Luna ranted impatiently, stomping her foot. "You're right, we lost because of you. But it's not because of your brashness, but because you gave up!"

Harry scowled, "I saved your lives at the Ministry! Voldemort would have stopped at nothing to kill all of you!"

Luna threw her hair back in a huff, "And I suppose that's different than what ended up happening?"

Harry grimaced. Things didn't end up the way he wanted, all best-laid plans and all. His hand involuntarily went up to caress his scar, only to feel nothing. His fingers ran across a smooth forehead.

Fate spoke up crossly, "As much fun as it is to watch you squabble, there are other souls about to pass on. Mr. Potter, we need to decide where to send you. The afterlife only accepts those whose soul is whole, thus you cannot go there."

She paused as if waiting for a reaction. When neither Harry nor Luna responded verbally, she raised an eyebrow but continued nonetheless, "The only options are to stay here, or to erase your existence. Of course, the former will eventually end in the latter."

"Wait! Voldemort's horcrux, didn't he integrate it into Harry's soul? Doesn't that mean Harry has a whole soul again?"

Harry's head turned so fast his neck would've snapped, "Are you telling me to bring a piece of Voldemort into the afterlife? Luna, ignoring the fact that I don't think I deserve to go on-"

"Harry, I DON'T CARE! We have to find a way, I can't just let the one true friend I've made go...poof!", exclaimed Luna hotly. Her arms wrapped around her waist as she hung her head.

"I can't let you go.", she whispered.

Fate regarded Luna with her piercing gaze, "Ms. Lovegood, even I can't go against the rules of the universe."

She shook her head violently, blonde locks whipping her face, "We have to find a way! There's no way Harry deserves to be erased! You know as well as I do that dark magic can twist a person's judgement! He's just as much of a victim as everyone else that went on!"

"That may be so,", the deity replied with a hard tone, "but not even the most devout of Death Eaters created a horcrux. There are lines that must not be crossed, regardless of reason."

As Luna realized Fate had no intention of giving her any hope, she slowly crumpled to the ground, arms still wrapped around her waist. Tearless sobs wracked her body in waves. Fate stared emotionlessly at the girl for a moment before she turned back to Harry.

"Now, to continue, since your crimes were not quite as heinous as Mr. Riddle's, you are in fact allowed to stay in this in-between realm for a while. Perhaps to wait until the last of your classmates die?", proffered Fate. Harry's dampened look gave Fate the answer that she needed.

"Very well, then say your farewells to Ms. Lovegood here."

Fate stepped back to allow the two some space. Harry went over to Luna and awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder to try comforting her. It had the opposite effect, for she only wailed harder.

"I-it's not fair!", she sobbed. Harry patted her head wordlessly, plucking errant strands of hair from her face.

"It'll be fine. I'm sure the afterlife will be loads of fun, perhaps you'll make friends with people from decades ago that we only read from history books!", Harry said placatingly. Luna's sobs continued in earnest.

Eventually, Luna's despair reduced to a small hiccup. Harry mentally sighed in relief, until he heard a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Heh, to think I waited this long thinking I'd be the one to comfort you. In the end I'm still the emotional wreck.", muttered Luna.

"Don't wor- wait, Luna, how long were you waiting here? You died months ago!"

Fate interjected with her inflectionless voice, "Time dilation allows us to keep the peace between all the souls that pass on. When dilated, the flow of time here is slower than in real life by a factor of 10. It allows us deities. The two months between her death-"

"Almost two years.", gasped Harry, looking at Luna's curled figure. Fate nodded solemnly, "You have a good friend here, Mr. Potter. She welcomed every arrival with an energetic flair, both friendly and not, giving them some form of closure at the expense of her own."

"If I don't wait for Harry, no one will. Besides, my parents have each other and the rest of the DA think I'm crazy for believing in you. What g-good is going onwards when there's not much waiting on the other side?", asked Luna bitterly, choking on her own spit.

Harry stopped patting her, seeing that the tears had stopped flowing, "Luna…"

Luna shook her head fervently. Harry despairingly held her tightly against him, unsure of what to do. All he could do was curse the world, curse it for treating Luna so poorly and then even denying her a decent afterlife.

"There is...one possible solution. Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Potter, there is a way to erase an existence while still giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Instead of going on, you can go back.", Fate spoke, an unreadable expression on her face.

Harry's head shot up, "What do you mean?"

"I can send you to another dimension, one with another Fate. There, you will have to reunite with your horcrux before you die and are judged.", she replied.

"There's a way to do that?", asked Harry in a hopeful tone. Fate dipped her head and said, "The requirements are equally as unpleasant as the making of one, but it WILL qualify you to enter the afterlife should you succeed."

Harry glumly noticed that she had left out a specific piece of information, "And you won't tell me how to do it."

Fate replied haughtily, "The fact that I give you this chance is already against normal procedures. Giving you the answer on, how do you say, a silver platter would be breaking every law I have. No, you'll have to find it yourself. So, do you agree?"

Harry was about to, but something was telling him that he forgot something. As he looked over to the strangely quiet Luna, it hit him.

"...what about Luna? Will she be able to come with me?"

Fate shook her head, "Unfortunately, those who qualify for the afterlife are bound to continue onwards eventually. This has never been offered before, for everyone else that has created a horcrux tended to be creatures harmful to the world at large. I have no intention of helping the cruel."

Luna spoke up softly, "It's okay, Harry. Nargles may steal you away for now, but things always return in the end."

Nargles. Harry's heart dropped as he realized her mask was back on as she looked at him with a thin smile. He nodded slowly, "Don't worry, I'll find a way back, I promise."

Fate had already transformed the red deformed Harry back into the butterbeer cap necklace, placing it on his neck. Without checking whether Harry was ready, she waved her hand over Harry's head, causing a shower of sprinkles to slowly float over his head.

"Oh look, it's snowing. The wrackspurts must be having a mating party above your head Harry.", Luna said dreamily, looking above his head. Harry shut his eyes as the world slowly started disintegrating like a sheet of paper shriveling over an open flame.

As the train station fell apart, Fate's voice rang out, "Oh, just to clarify, you aren't going to be the Chosen One anymore. Do try to figure out who you are before it's too late!"

Harry never got to reply because the world turned white.

* * *

Then it turned dark. Harry stumbled to the floor, disoriented. A lone streetlamp lit the dead end, revealing a sturdy cobblestone wall with a metal gate. A neatly trimmed hedge peeked over the top. The smell of pot roast and turkey wafted through the street, making Harry's stomach rumble with envy. The houses were decorated in the green-and-red of Christmas colours, complete with raucous celebrations inside.

He leaned against the cobblestone wall with his hand, trying to stabilise himself. As he tried to take a step, a lower center of gravity protested and he nearly crashed into the gate headfirst. Luckily, he reached out and steadied himself before he'd sport yet another forehead scar.

 _Damn it Harry, of all the things to find hard, how is WALKING one of them?!,_ he thought morosely. He looked down at his feet angrily, only to pause at the small size of them. His attention quickly darted to his hands, which were also similarly small in size and callous-free.

_...did I de-age?_

He needed a mirror. Seeing a nearby car, he ran over to peruse the window. Or he would have, had he recalled that he doesn't quite remember how to walk with smaller feet. Like a first-time tightrope walker, he fell flat on his face again, kicking the metal gate as he went down.

_Blasted...!_

After he got up from his second reunion with the floor, he inched forwards with caution this time. As he looked at the reflection, he grimaced.

Staring back at him, with a worried look on his face, was 10-year old Harry, only with muggle clothes. His eyes were now completely red, without any more of the iridescent green that defined his look in the past. The horcrux necklace dangled from his neck.

"Hssssssss"

Harry jumped at the hissing coming from under the car. He stepped back, only to be relieved as a cat slunk out from underneath, orange pelt gleaming under the lamp.

He knelt down, holding his hand out, "Oh hey kitty, nice seeing you he—ow!"

He quickly pulled his hand back, grimacing as fresh blood leaked from the wound. The cat stared at him mutinously even as it wiped the blood on the floor as if getting rid of dung. Sucking on his wound, he got up with a huff.

 _Don't cats usually lick themselves clean? Eh, must be a stupid cat,_ thought Harry irritatedly.

Taking a few short steps, he mentally cheered at finally figuring out how to walk properly. He suddenly stiffened at the sound of a door opening from the house behind him.

"—fine fine, I'll go check you annoying bint.", a familiar voice said with a laugh.

"Oy Padfoot! Lils isn't a bint!", a male voice called out.

_Padfoot?!_

Harry's heart started thumping really hard. He instinctively tried flicking his wand out from it's holster, only to realise with a sinking feeling that he had neither.

_Damn it! Alright, time to Disap—_

"So she IS anno— _HARRY?!"_

Harry stood there like a deer in headlights as he stared at his dead godfather. A younger, less gaunt version of him with his mouth agape. A beer bottle shattered on the floor.

"Harry, wait!"

Harry did the first thing he thought of. He Disapparated.

" _GAH!"_

He cried out in pain as he appeared a few feet down the block, blood spurting from a missing leg. The errant leg fell to the floor with a sickening squelch as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pain.

* * *


	3. Focal Length

Outwardly, Lily never liked their Christmas parties. Sure, she would complain to James endlessly about how Sirius would trash the toilet after every party, or how Remus would pass out from even the tiniest bit of alcohol and piss his pants on the couch (after which he would swear off alcohol for a year, only to relapse again come Christmas). However, these small parties would always bring a smile to her face as she watched her overgrown child of a husband joke around with his best friends. It was a nice break from all the things that happened recently, especially with their children.

Her mood dampened slightly as she thought of the word "children". Adam hasn't been the same since...no, she quickly banished the thought. She had allowed that thought to consume her life every day for the past two years. It was time to take a small break, even if it was just for a night. She passed out yet another round of butterbeers to the three stooges on the couch playing Exploding Snaps whilst their house-elf Dipsy (who insisted on being called Tipsy for today) focused on cleaning the dishes. A bottle of half-finished butterbeer sat suspiciously within arms reach of the house-elf.

It's not Christmas for everyone if the house-elf can't enjoy themselves too, after all.

A small crash could be heard outside, almost like someone had crashed into their metal gate. However, none of the wards were set off to alert them of Death Eaters or other unsavoury characters. Lily looked over to the three guys and asked the one closest to the door, "Sirius, could you go outside and check the gate?"

Sirius got up with rosey cheeks, still smiling stupidly with a bottle in hand, "Sure! I'm sure it's just little Poppy looking to come back in though!"

Poppy, their cat, was named after the flower. Or at least, that's what James had told Pomfrey when she visited last month. It's definitely not because Poppy tended to hover closely around the family like Pomfrey does to patients in her ward.

"Just check you drunk!", Lily hollered.

Sirius waddled out of the house, laughing. He said something that Lily didn't quite catch, but judging from how James responded she swore to spike his next drink with something. Maybe a love potion for Amelia Bones. Merlin knows they needed to get together already.

Her musings abruptly cut off when Sirius came running back into the house with all the grace of a charging rhino. His great eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and horror, scanning the confused room of revellers until he caught her gaze.

"Lily! Come quick! It's—he's—oh come with me! Bring something to make a splint out of!", Sirius said, hands haphazardly trying to take his shirt off. Without waiting for her reply, he darted back out into the street.

Lily's reflexes from the war immediately turned on, grabbing a steel mop handle and kicking off the mop as she dashed out after him. Whatever she anticipated, she didn't expect to see a leg on the floor right outside their door, bleeding profusely out. Hurriedly scooping up the leg and applying pressure to the gaping hole, she called out, "Sirius where are you?!"

"Here!", his voice called out from the dark part of the street. Sirius casted a _Lumos_ with one hand while the other held his shirt against a bloody figure. She rushed over, recognizing the wound as an Apparition splinching immediately.

"Sirius, let me take care of it."

He nodded, letting go of the leg. However, he refused to take his eyes off of the boy's face.

Lily didn't question it, she had to focus on reattaching the leg. James and Remus soon ran over, wands held ready in case it was an attack.

"Sirius, what's going on?"

Sirius, without moving his gaze, "Kid splinched himself."

James' incredulously replied, "Really? Apparition from someone that looks like he's—is that Harry?!"

His voice trailed off with a gasp. Lily's chest suddenly tightened as her gaze trailed upwards, landing on the soft pale face and messy black hair of her son. As if he could tell people were looking, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing red irises glazed over in pain.

"...Mum?"

She was too hung up on those eyes, those eyes so much like Voldemort's marring her long-lost son's face. She fought the urge to hurl as she quickly avoided his gaze, not wanting Harry to see the ugly look on her face as she tended to his wound. Thankfully, he lost consciousness quickly afterwards.

* * *

Harry woke up to the sound of loud stomping outside. Groaning, he flopped over to his other side, trying to hide from the elephant outside by sticking his pillow over his head.

Wait. _Pillow?! Room?!_

His eyes shot open and he jolted up from bed, only to hiss as an arc of pain lanced up from his leg to his neck. His leg was heavily bandaged, akin to an Egyptian mummy's, and had a cast set on it. His hands quickly flew to his neck, only to sigh in relief as the feeling of ridges tingled his finger pad.

With a huff, he leaned back against the bedpost and looked around the room, which revealed an almost bog standard bedroom consisting of a dresser, a desk, and a closet. Even the wallpaper was a bland off-white, teetering on yellow. There weren't any personal effects to speak of. A window was on his left, with the bedroom door on the opposite right hand corner. A brass plaque with "HARRY" written on it was screwed into the door.

Said bedroom door wasn't very good at blocking out sound.

"When is Adam coming back from the Weasley's?", a male voice asked. Harry's heart skipped a beat at hearing his dad's voice. His parents were alive! A longing blossomed in his chest, yearning to connect with the parents he never knew. But, they're not his. Not really, especially when they'd learn he'd taken their son's body and had erased his existence. From what little he knew about his parents, they were the loving sort of parent.

He'd let them know eventually, but not yet.

"Molly's keeping them until tonight, she was worried Sirius would be sleeping on our couch this morning.", a female voice replied. _Mum_ , thought Harry wistfully.

A third voice interjected, "Hey, that was one time! Besides, it was Moony's fault for bringing that aged firewhiskey over! I just made sure the bottle ended Christmas in a bin and not the fridge."

"That was a whole litre of liquor you drank. I'm surprised you lived through the night.", the woman deadpanned.

"Never doubt the powers of the Black stomach! Didn't even need a Pepper Up potion to get back to work the next day.", Sirius said. The thought of a drunk Sirius holding an empty bottle of firewhiskey strutting into the Ministry atrium made Harry blink away tears as he struggled not to laugh out loud.

A brief moment of silence elapsed between the three voices outside.

James finally spoke up, "Did you let Dumbledore know about Harry yet?" There was something off about the way James said Harry's name. It was like he was describing a stranger.

"No, and to be honest I don't particularly feel I should. It was on his 'suggestions' that we screwed up so hard with Harry.", Lily replied with an edge.

A new voice, Remus, interjected lowly, "Lily, we have to tell him. There's something off about Harry, and after what happened that day he left I think we shouldn't let down our guard yet."

"Remus, are you saying my son is some sort of dark wizard?", Lily asked with a chilly tone.

Remus replied, "No no, Lily I would never...listen, Lily, I don't have much to go on, but I think Harry's done something. The rumours floating around between the werewolves, the way he looks right now...there has to be some nugget of truth in that."

A pause elapsed before Lily replied, "They're all just baseless rumours, Remus. There's no way a ten year old kid could accomplish even half of what those rumours say."

"I'm not saying they're true or not, but we still have to be cautious. Remember what Severus warned us about, Lily!"

The sound of chair scraping and footsteps made Harry quickly slide back under his covers.

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth my son. He's come back, and that's all that matters for right now.", Lily said resolutely, voice getting louder as she walked up.

Harry shut his eyes, heart thumping wildly. Why was Remus, the calm level-headed one, treating him like some kind of bomb? What did he do? And why wasn't James saying anything? Did he agree with his fellow Marauder?

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of his door opening and Lily placing his breakfast on the desk. Her feather-light footsteps as she walked to the bed, and the ginger head pats told Harry more than words could ever do. Somehow, his past self managed to scare his own mother.

"Harry...", she trailed off, seemingly too overwhelmed in emotions to talk properly. Eventually, she seemed to decide on something and whispered softly, "No matter what, you'll always be my Harry. Nothing you do could ever change that."

As her footsteps retreated out of the room, he let out a ragged breath and turned to his back, staring at the ceiling to gather his thoughts. So far, all he knew was that his parents were alive, and that his alternate self had run away from home. He didn't know for how long, nor for what.

He exhaled sharply as he realized that he wouldn't know. His alternate self, the previous inhabitant and true owner of this body he's using, was gone. In his effort to right his wrongs, he'd already started off by killing an alternate version of himself. No, worse, erased him from existence, preventing him from living a full life in order for a wretched version of himself to relive theirs.

He should've guessed that this was the result of Fate's offer. Since when had fate ever had anything good in store for him, anyways? Everything always had strings attached. Harry felt like a marionette, always dancing to someone's tune. Everything he knew, everything he was capable of came from being the puppet of Voldemort. His duelling capabilities, his knowledge of duelling curses and dark hexes, his ability to talk to snakes all came from him. Even something as personal as his moral compass had been manipulated by Dumbledore and Voldemort. They weren't great just based on their duelling capabilities, oh no. It was their ability to wheedle their way into people's thought processes, subtly changing what they stood for.

Now that both of them were long gone, he felt cold. Their insipid tendrils of warped morality, always present on his consciousness, no longer intruded on his thoughts. For once, he could think for himself, and this scared Harry.

Especially when thinking for himself resulted in the murder of a prepubescent child. Suddenly, his neck felt heavy. His hand lightly grazed the necklace, thinking back to the train station. Luna had believed in him, even when he hadn't. A new wave of determination washed over him, sending shocks through his entire body.

He might have replaced their son, but that doesn't mean he can't take care of the ones he cared about. Harry didn't know if this was one of the final wisps of his Gryffindorish nobility peeking through, but he didn't care.

He needed to learn about his past self, even if it was for no reason but to prove to himself that he had changed.

How does one learn about a dead ten year old kid, though? He looked around the room, eyes flicking between all the fixtures. He got up from bed, intent on checking out this room. That is, until his stomach growled as the smell of toasted sausages wafted into his nose. Swinging his leg, he hobbled his way to his first meal in this new world. Any plans to solve a paradox or save lives will have to wait at least a few minutes.

After breakfast, he wandered around the decoration-less room with curiosity. Pulling open drawers in the dresser, he realized that his previous self didn't have much of a styling sense. Everything was different shades of gray, with most of his clothing teetering on black. Only the very rare instance of red popped up, and he had a nagging feeling that previous Harry didn't wear them much judging from the musty wood smell as he took one out.

The closet was a similar story, except it only contained three coats. The majority of it was empty. Harry closed the closet, not any closer to finding out just who he previously was.

His final hope, at least for right now, was the desk. The desk seemed like any normal desk, with both muggle writing tools and quills sticking up from a cup holder. He tried pulling out the lone drawer, only to be dismayed as it was locked. A harder jerk yielded nothing except a thud from the table lifting off the ground.

Disappointed, he hobbled to the door and turned the knob. Maybe the rest of the house had some clues. Gritting his teeth from pain as his leg protested, he left his room.

* * *

As James went to the second floor washroom, his thoughts were in a tizzy thinking about last night. James loved his family. Lily was a beautiful, sweet, sometimes overly stubborn, woman and he was always reminded of how lucky he was to have her. His twin sons were a handful, but they were always a sort of opposites. Where Adam had inherited James' penchant for trouble and his hazel eyes, Harry had inherited the kind-hearted but opinionated nature of Lily, with her fiery green eyes to boot. Whereas most would expect those two personalities to clash, they hadn't.

They fit together almost seamlessly, with Harry playing the role of older brother despite being only separated by a few minutes. He doted on Adam, giving Adam a solid foundation he could always return to when his pranks went wrong as they usually did. He smiled grimly as his memories flitted to a reminder from their childhood.

* * *

_James' Memory, The Burrow_

James sat back, watching as Sirius taught Fred and George Beater techniques, pantomiming a bludger smash into a player with his hands. Truthfully, he wasn't sure whether that was a particularly helpful demonstration, but judging from the glossy eyes of the twins they were paying more attention to the fact that they were being taught by one of Gryffindor's best beaters in years.

Also, it helps that Sirius had 'accidentally' let it slip that they were some of the worst (or best, depending on who you ask) pranksters in Hogwarts history.

"—and that's how you pull off a Polish charge! Make sure you tail the enemy seeker from both sides so they won't ever be able to interact with the game. Clears you straight up if your chasers are any good.", Sirius remarked with a puffed chest.

Fred, or George, nodded with a bright-eyed grin.

"Alright, let's try it. I'll fly first, pretend I'm a slimy Slytherin seeker. James, send the bludger up after they go up!", Sirius called out.

"Oi! Don't let Lily hear you badmouthing Slytherins or you won't be walking home with anything in between the legs! I won't cover for you like last time!", James hollered back. Sirius stuck his tongue out petulantly as he flew up.

As he disappeared into the sky, James walked over to the Quidditch chest. As he bent down to open it, he noted that the clasp was off. Someone had opened it, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was one of his twins. Sighing at the prank (because of the obviousness, although he would never admit it to anyone), he played dumb and opened the chest to reveal two bludgers. Or, rather, two coconuts shaved and painted to look like bludgers.

Ah well, his twins were only 7. Can't have too high of an expectation for kids that just stopped needing a booster seat in restaurants. Besides, he can't deny that the outcome wouldn't be funny. As he picked one of them up, he paused as the 'bludger' moved.

Seven year olds shouldn't know how to charm bludgers yet.

He quickly casted a quick detection spell on the 'bludger', but finding only a simple bludger charm his suspicions were momentarily assuaged. Just to be sure, he kept his wand out. Once Fred and George went up, he launched the bludger at one of them, eyes on the hurtling coconut to make sure it didn't do any funny—

_**SPLAT** _

Fred had taken a swing at the bludger, and the 'bludger' exploded on his bat, showering him with coconut water and bits. Sounds of laughter could be heard coming from inside the Burrow, and he instantly recognized them as his twins. Grinning devilishly, James snuck in from the backdoor. He peeked around the corner to the kitchen and saw Adam on the kitchen counter, staring out the window.

"And that hair! Fred won't be able to wash the gunk from his hair for days!", Adam said to himself with a triumphant smirk.

"Aha!", James announced his presence with a pompous grin, "So it was you that did it!"

Adam's head swivelled, face quickly draining of blood, "U-uh, how much did you hear, Dad?"

"Enough to make you grounded for a week once your mother hears about it.", James tutted. He didn't actually have any intention of ratting him out to his wife, but he was having too much fun torturing his kid.

Adam replied, stuttering, "W-wait! Don't tell Mum! I won't do it again, I promise!"

Before James could say anything, his other son passed by the other entrance into the kitchen. Adam, sensing his only chance of getting out of it, dropped down from the counter and ran over to Harry, clutching his arm for dear life.

"Harry! Bro, listen to me, you believe I wouldn't hurt a fly right?", Adam asked, desperate.

Harry quizzically looked up and realization dawned on his face as he saw James standing in the kitchen.

"Of course I do! There's no way you'd turn someone's hair into a summer drink by decorating a coconut into a Quidditch ball.", Harry said teasingly, green eyes bright with mirth.

"Tha-wait a second! Don't just give away my plans like that! Dad's gonna tell Mum!", Adam whined.

"Dad won't tell her anything, don't worry about it Addy.", Harry soothed, patting him on the shoulder gently to get Adam to let go of his arm.

"What makes you so sure I won't?", James asked. He didn't like the way his smile looked as Harry replied, "Oh, maybe if a little birdie let it loose that you nearly followed that woman into the undies store last week."

Now it was James' turn to turn pale. He had taken Harry out on an errand run last Sunday, and they passed by a Veela. While kids were immune to their charms, he wasn't and was instantly drawn in by her beauty. The only reason why he didn't follow her around like some dumb love-struck idiot was a tug from Harry and a pointed look at the mannequins wearing nothing but underwear. Window shoppers were sending questioning looks their way as all they saw was a love-struck dad dragging a prepubescent child into a womens' lingerie store.

He had somehow forgotten about that.

"Got it, deal."

As Harry led his brother to meet up with the rest of the Weasley children, he noticed something sticking out of Harry's pants.

"Harry, is that a wand?"

Harry sheepishly took it out of his pocket and showed James, "Uncle Padfoot dropped it when he was showing Fred and George his little model set. I was going to give it to him later."

He quickly shoved it back into his pocket and herded Adam to the living room. James caught a mischievous smirk from Harry as he left.

_Huh, guess he has a pranking streak too._

As he went to return back to the field, his stride suddenly stopped as an intrusive thought popped up.

_Wait, did Harry charm those coconuts?_

* * *

In hindsight, it was the first of many signs that Harry was gifted. James had later weaselled out that Harry had learned the charm from watching Sirius play around with their miniature Quidditch set. The man was honestly obsessed with miniature Quidditch, and the fact that they had come out with a Welsh National team variant had resulted in him disappearing into his house for days, only to reappear once he realized the bludgers were ruining the varnish on one of the chasers. He then proceeded to disappear for another week, only for Lily to finally stomp in and drag Sirius out, locking him in their cottage for a day.

Eventually, they had agreed that Sirius could play with the set, but only in the Potters' house. When he did, both Adam and Harry had immediately fallen in love with the set, especially when Adam was given a Scottish variant for his next birthday to pit against Sirius'.

After that birthday, his 8th, Dumbledore brought up the issue of training Adam in defensive magic, reasoning that his alias as the Boy-Who-Lived would serve to make him a target in Hogwarts. It would be best if Adam could defend himself properly. So they did, Lily would teach during the days James worked while James would train Adam on the days he was off. It worked at first, sure James had to be reduced to part-time Auror duties but their family didn't particularly hurt for money.

What they had forgotten was to pay attention to their other son. He didn't really mind the lack of attention, for he had already started doing many of the household chores and was perfectly content being alone in his room. Too content. As James turned the handle to the washroom, his grip a little too tight, he remembered the pained expression on Harry's face as every night, Lily or he would disappear during the morning only to return late in the evening with a battered Adam, too often with scrapes and bruises. Harry fussed over Adam incessantly after every session, tending to his wounds with a combination of ointments and bandages from a magical first aid kit.

James thought he was nothing but the perfect older brother, but he never thought about how he was acting well beyond his age. Most kids at 8 tended to be selfish little brats, but Harry…

_Harry was never really a selfish kid._

His hand started aching as he realized he was still holding onto the doorknob. Sighing, he turned the doorknob with a single motion and pushed the door open.

Just as he stepped over the threshold, he stopped when he heard a door down the hall open.

"Hey...Dad."

James' couldn't keep his fingers from clamming up.

Harry breathed out to control his turbid emotions. The last time he'd seen his dad, he was a ghostly apparition coming from the Dark Lord's wand, telling him to run. What little he knew were all second-hand stories from Sirius and others, and yet here was a live and breathing version in front of him. The only thing that stopped Harry from launching himself at James was the fact that this wasn't really his dad. Not really, not when he'd taken over his son's body. If James' knew what had happened, Harry knew it would ruin James' heart.

However, this was his chance at a family he never had. A chance to learn about the family his alternate self once had. A small semblance of something he hadn't felt in a long time peeked out from under the darkness that shrouded in. What it was, Harry didn't know.

"Hey...Dad.", he said softly.

James stood stock-still, eyes boring into Harry's. Harry shifted under his gaze, unsure of how to act in front of him.

The awkward tension could be cut with a knife as both sides had a burning question that neither wanted to mention. Eventually, James slowly asked, "Harry, you're walking again. Got better so soon?"

Harry nodded. Not having anything to say, he hobbled to James' side of the hallway, pausing as he saw a family picture hung at the end of the hallway. It seemed like they were at some sort of picnic. He—the previous Harry had a small grin on his face as he had an arm wrapped around someone that looked nearly identical to him save for the brown eyes. The twin had food marks on his shirt, undoubtedly from some sort of dried mayonnaise. A lightning bolt scar marred his forehead.

He wondered if the 'Adam' they were talking about earlier was the twin. He rolled the name Adam Potter quietly on his tongue.

Harry momentarily forgot that James was still watching him, and had misconstrued every single one of Harry's body motions.

Harry didn't find much in the little cottage. Beyond a few photos with the Weasleys and Neville, he was no closer to discovering who his previous self was. What's worse, after disappearing for a bit James had seemingly taken it upon himself to fuss over Harry, watching his every move like a hawk.

It was slowly getting annoying. Every time he would try to get something, James would ask him what it was he needed and immediately grabbed it for him. He silently fumed as James, for the fifteenth time today, grabbed another door handle for him. This time it was to let him back into his bedroom.

"Dad, I still have hands.", Harry grumbled, "but thanks anyways."

James shook his head and said with a toothy grin, "Don't worry about it champ."

After a while, Harry came across the family photo book and brought it back to his room. Harry couldn't help but feel intrusive at peering into this book, especially with one of the subjects watching his every move, but his curiosity got the better of him. James watched his wayward son with an unreadable expression as Harry stared at photo after photo of a happy family. His twin had inherited James' infectious grin, while Lily and Harry usually showed less teeth in their softer smiles.

James suddenly spoke up, "You have amnesia."

Harry stilled and looked at James, "Amnesia?"

James placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Yeah, amnesia. What, you think I didn't notice that you're looking through ALL our photos, not just the ones from the last two years?"

Harry mentally swore at his lapse of judgement but somehow kept his face straight.

"Ah...yeah, I guess.", Harry conceded, giving James a disarming smile, hoping he would fall for it and stop overanalysing.

James nodded thoughtfully and replied, "Don't worry, we'll find a way to get them back. But, we have to make sure that no one had performed a Memory charm on you...how about this, I'll invite Dumbledore over for dinner. Afterwards, we'll go through your memories to fix them right."

Harry paled. There was no way he was going to let Dumbledore into his head. If the old man saw even a glimpse of his former life, he'd undoubtedly be treated like a ticking time bomb. Even if he didn't work for the other side anymore, there was no guarantee that Dumbledore would wait for explanations before doing something rash.

"Wait no—!"

But James had already left the room, locking the door behind him. Harry quickly clambered to his feet, swearing. He needed to leave before Dumbledore arrived.

In truth, James hadn't actually planned on inviting Dumbledore over. Lily was still adamant that Dumbledore not be told anything until they could get to the bottom of just what happened to Harry, to go against his wife would be like signing his own death wish.

He just wanted to see Harry's reaction, and he had heard it despite having already left the room. Crazy how two words can make a grown man so worried. Why wouldn't Harry want someone digging through his mind, when he's an amnesiac? Wouldn't he accept all the help he could get?

_Unless he's hiding something that he can't let us know._

James ran through all the options quickly through his head, and not one of them sounded good. At best, a stranger had taken pity on a wandering boy and Obliviated his memories to prevent any long term mental trauma from exposure to the elements, but that meant someone had gotten close to Harry in the first place. Also, that meant Harry had some memories that he couldn't let his parents see. Harry's reaction wasn't some standard knee-jerk reaction because he had done some pranks or something, it was a desperate cry of denial. Normal ten year olds don't have memories that would elicit that kind of reaction.

James needed to get to the bottom of this. With a sinking feeling he realized that he may have just scared his elder son by threatening to send Dumbledore at him. Suddenly, a scraping sound could be heard coming from the bedroom he just left. Swearing at his thick headedness, he ran back to Harry's door and unlocked it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was a step away from hyperventilating. His heart pounded in fear of the thought of Dumbledore seeing even a glimpse of what his previous life had been like. He clawed at his bottle cap necklace, fingers wrapped around three of the bottle caps until one of the caps slit open his finger. He ignored it, too entranced in his own thoughts to care that blood slowly pooled on the grey linen.

This was his one chance to make everything right, he can't let Dumbledore know anything. A time travelling Dark Lord's disciple that made his own horcrux? Harry would be lucky if they merely sent him to Azkaban. He'd have to leave Lily, James, and this unknown twin brother of his behind.

Well, to be honest he wasn't sure why he felt an attachment to them at all. He'd never known his parents, and these versions of James and Lily hadn't known him at all. They knew his alternate self.

_They're still a version of my parents._

He limped over to the window, looking down to see a bed of flowers right below. Nothing nearly soft enough to prevent his still-unfeeling leg from crumpling under his weight. Thinking quickly, he grabbed his bedsheets and tied them to the bedpost. Tugging on them to ensure they were tight enough, he threw them out the window as he stuck his usable leg out first and pressed against the outside wall. With a heave he swung his other leg out the window, rappelling down the wall. Just as he hit the midway point between the second and first floors, however, the makeshift rope began to move on it's own.

_Bugger! The bed's slipping!_

Suddenly, he found himself in free fall to the floor as the makeshift rope loosened. With a thud his back met the flowerbed, his useless leg flopping on the floor over the other one.

Groaning, he sat up rubbing the back of his head. He should've known the bedpost wasn't heavy enough to stay motionless. Cursing his ineptitude, he stood up with help from the wall and hobbled away from the house. He needed to get beyond the gates, out of range of the wards so he could Disapparate. Right as he got to the gate, two things simultaneously happened.

One, he nearly collided with someone that looked almost exactly like he did, if he had a rounder face. Two, the front door to the house opened revealing James' worried face.

"...Harry?!"

"Harry! Wait!"

Ignoring the piss poor attempt at a chorus, Harry quickly pushed his lookalike to the side and stepped over the boundary, gathering the magic required for another attempt at a wandless Disapparition.

A red flash of light and a shout of indignation from his twin was all that he heard before his vision turned black, tumbling to the floor.

* * *

Ignoring his feeling of deja vu, Harry woke up in bed after passing out for the second time on the same day. This time though, he felt another presence in the room. Blearily he turned to the other occupant, only to come across the red locks of Lilystaring at him intently, a guarded expression on her face.

Harry sent her a crooked smile, "I'm guessing you're not just here because you're worried about me?"

Lily replied frostily, "I don't know. Will you be jumping out of a second-story window again?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply with a snarky remark when suddenly Lily slammed into Harry, arms wrapped tightly around him. Harry froze as he felt small shivers running through her body. He didn't know whether to comfort her or not.

"I don't care what you did, I j-just want my baby back. Is that too much to ask for?", whispered Lily. Desperation laced every one of her words, amplifying them louder than any shouting could accomplish.

"...Mum.", just saying the word made Harry's mouth feel sour. He felt unclean, no longer at trying to pretend being someone's he's not, but because of how _easy_ it's become. Harry's lips felt parched, every word coming out in staccato as he uncontrollably twirled the bedsheet with his left hand, "I just...I'm not ready to be back yet."

_I'm not ready to let you know, much less Dumbledore._

Lily buried her face in her hands and mumbled, "Home shouldn't be something you get ready for."

Harry looked on mutely, not sure how to respond. He didn't know anything about his mum, and it was becoming painfully evident as he searched for words to comfort her.

All he knew was that she loved him, enough to give her life away in another universe.

"I don't mean it like—agh, Mum look, I just needed some time before I came back. I never intended to show up here today.", even as the words came out of Harry's mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones to say. However, it wasn't Lily that responded to that, but a newcomer at the door.

"You never intended to show up today? When then, did you PLAN on coming back?", The person demanded, voice rising in volume with every word, "We've been searching all over Britain for you for two years, Harry! Mum and Dad have been emptying their bank accounts hiring private investigators looking for you, just trying to find any rumours on you!"

As Harry looked at the door, he couldn't help but do a double take as he saw what was basically a skinnier version of current Harry, only with hazel instead of ruby eyes. He was wearing pajamas with the three Quidditch balls emblazoned in the middle. Lily spoke up reproachfully, "I thought I told you to stay in your room until tomorrow while we work things out."

Harry's twin angrily replied, "Yeah, like hell I'd listen to that! Don't you see, you're keeping me out just like Harry is trying to keep you guys out!"

"Adam—"

"No! I'm sick of being told to wait and everything will be okay!", Adam shouted, "He's clearly not interested in staying here, what's the point of keeping that from me? To protect my feelings or something?! You go on about how it'll all be fine and stuff, but really you don't have a clue either!"

With a final cry of anger, he stormed away from the door. Lily's arms slackened at her side, staring at the door. After a momentary pause, Lily got up robotically and muttered to Harry, "I should...I should go check up on him."

"Wait!", Harry called. He knew he shouldn't be intervening especially with his 'memory deficits', but he needed to talk to his twin brother. "I think I should go, this was all sort of my fault anyway."

Nothing better to learn about someone than to start by asking their identical twin. Harry never paused to think just how manipulative he had just been.

* * *

Deep within the dark, twisting alleyways of Knockturn Alley was a small potion ingredients shop. The dim light emitted by the esca of many dangling Anglerfish revealed that many of the wares resembled nothing like the Apothecary's. The owner, Marion, a short ugly man with a wart the size of a snitch on his mandible joint, shot up from his seat at the sound of a doorbell chime.

"We closed-um today! Can't yeh read the ruddy si—oh, esteemed customer-um!", the owner babbled, bustling to grovel at the newcomer's feet. The newcomer, middling height yet imposing, wore a dark cloak to mask his appearance. That wasn't anything Marion was worried about for most of his customers would rather their identity not be revealed. However, one flash from the sleeve to reveal his hand caused Marion to gasp and backpedal away.

The stranger, pretending to not notice Marion's fear at him, spoke with a drawl, "I thought I'd mentioned that the light fixtures were an eyesore, Marion. Did I forget to mention that somehow?"

Marion stuttered out, "I-I must've misheard-um! I'll get right on it tonight!"

The stranger made a show of nodding, "See that you do. I'd hate to be a broken record."

He leaned over to Marion, knocking over a horn. Recognizing the erumpent horn for what it was, Marion yelped and immediately dove for cover, bracing for his inevitable end in a ball of fire. However, when nothing came across, he peered up and immediately came face to face with the erumpent horn, floating right in front of his face. The stranger's wand was out, pointed at the horn. Marion hadn't even heard an incantation.

"Hmm, that could have been serious. I do apologise for my clumsiness, dear Marion.", his tone was anything but. Marion didn't dare call him out on it though, nodding furiously as he scrambled back to his feet.

"Now, onto the reason for my presence. I'd assume you know why?"

Beads of sweat came down Marion's face as he realized what day it was. This was it, his life was over. He briefly entertained the thought of giving him a batch of fakes, but he knew that nothing would escape this man's attention to detail.

"E-esteemed customer, I didn't g-get the sh-shipment-um! I—", Marion suddenly stopped talking. Not that he was interrupted, but suddenly he found it impossible to breathe. His mouth could still move, but no air came out. His lungs burned as if they were on fire, causing his eyes to water in pain. The stranger strode over, wand pointed at Marion as he came closer.

"You don't have my shipment? I thought my payment was more than enough to procure it.", he said silkily. Marion's face paled as he remembered what the so-called 'payment' was. Flicking his wand up to let Marion speak, he gasped for air and quickly rattled out his reply,

"I-I swear, I'll get you the shipment-um as fast as I can! The Runner never came back-um!", he pleaded. The figure paused and looked at him with a piercing gaze. It was at that point that Marion realized the two eyes were mismatched, one was a dry dark brown while the other was a deep ruby red.

_Like the Runner's!_ , he realized with a shock. He realized just how deep in over his head he was.

"You said you used the Runner's service for this?", the stranger demanded. Marion nodded fervently, eager to place the blame on someone else. The stranger hummed, deep in thought. Eventually, he replied smoothly,

"See that you provide me with the ingredients as soon as possible. I don't believe I need to tell you why. I will be back in two nights, you'd best have it by then or I will make you obtain them yourself."

Marion wholeheartedly agreed, not wanting a repeat of what just happened. His frightened eyes followed the stranger as he swooped out of the shop, door opening without his hand ever grazing the doorknob.

"Oh, Marion?"

Marion didn't like the way the stranger said his name.

"Just a parting gift from me. A token to the happy relationship we'll have."

Suddenly the erumpent horn, which Marion had somehow forgotten about, materialised out of thin air between the two. Marion barely had time to fumble out his wand and cast a shield charm as it turned white hot and exploded, shaking the entirety of Knockturn Alley like an earthquake.

The stranger walked back, a bubble protecting his back as he strode down the alleyway ignoring the panicked shouts of the neighbours. Knowing the unsavory nature of most inhabitants in the Alley, he knew the Ministry wouldn't dare to investigate this.

_The Runner...why have you chosen this shipment for your first failure?_ , he mused as he walked down the alley. Once out of sight from everyone, he Disapparated away with a quiet _crack_ , not once looking back at the blazing inferno he'd caused.


	4. A Mixed Reception

Adam's door was left slightly ajar as Harry limped his way over. Once at the door, he spotted Adam with his head buried in his pillow, the covers piling on the floor unheeded. The room screamed "PRIDE OF PORTREE", with posters of players covering every square inch of wall space.

_A step here, and I go from one kind of person to another._

With a deep breath, he took his step into the unknown. In this case, his brother's Quidditch team-themed room.

"Hey…Adam."

The figure shifted but remained silent, choosing instead to turn his back to Harry petulantly. Harry took a deep breath, unsure of how to go about talking to his twin. Years and years of dealing with old professors and bloodthirsty Death Eaters prepared him for a war, not a pre-teen throwing a temper tantrum.

So Harry did what he did back when things were testy between him and Ron. He stepped back outside. As he left, Adam mumbled into his pillow,

"Why couldn't things just be normal again?"

Why couldn't they indeed. In the better years of his life, that was what Harry had dreamt of — normalcy. Now, even that dream was dashed, replaced with...what? He had nothing now, no reason to exist aside from grabbing a book and finding out how to Frankenstein his soul back together.

He had no one to talk to, either.

As he passed by his room, he realized that Lily was still sitting on his bed. She offered him a sad smile, thinly veiling her true emotions, and said, "Want to help me make dinner? Dipsy has the day off."

Harry agreed immediately.

* * *

Carrying out a large roasted turkey with both hands, his mouth began to salivate at the large meal they had whipped up. Whilst brussel sprouts weren't his favourite vegetable, he couldn't deny that the tray of glistening mini-cabbages in Lily's arms looked decadent. Lily had a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear as she placed the tray at the center of the kitchen table.

"I always knew you could cook, but this gravy outdoes anything I would've ever imagined!", Lily cooed fondly, clutching the oversized gravy boat like a jewellery box. Harry couldn't help but smile at the compliment. It felt good getting compliments from her. His guilt gremlin stirred, but didn't awaken.

Harry replied with a confident grin, "Make sure they try the brussel sprouts first, or no one will ever pay any attention to them."

Lily laughed, picking up the gravy boat filled with a fragrant light brown liquid, "Like James would ever go for vegetables first. Trust me, your dad would rather eat the hooves off a cow."

No sooner had the gravy boat touched the table had James come barrelling down the stairs, still fumbling with his bathrobe strap. His eyes, however, were completely on the turkey centrepiece in the middle of the dining room table.

"Lils, how did you even have time to make such a delicious roast? This looks like it took days to finish!", James said as he pulled a chair out.

"Don't look at me, Harry did all this. I only did the plucking and the brussel sprouts.", Lily replied with a wry look, handing out plates of creamy mashed potato.

Harry caught James' grin slipping for a second before being plastered back on, "O-oh, is that so? Well, then I'd better not waste any time then!"

He reached for the carving knife, getting ready to slice the turkey. Harry, remembering his vow to Lily quickly got up to stop him, placing his hand on James'.

"Wait! Don—", Harry cut off abruptly as he heard Lily shout. Sweat started perspiring out of his forehead as he turned and came face to face with the shiny end of a carving fork. James took a second to realize just what he was doing before he lowered it down with an ashamed look on his face.

"Um...sorry about that.", James mumbled, placing the carving fork down. Harry only nodded, unable to do anything afterwards. Lily glared at her husband, who mutely stared at his mashed potato for a second.

Not wanting to cause any more trouble, he abruptly stood up with his plate and said, "I...I think I'll just take this to eat at the living room."

"Stop it!", Lily commanded. James did as he was told and stilled. Harry didn't move from his spot, silently trying to ignore the guilt gremlin from clawing at his heart too much.

"James, I don't care what you suspect or not, but Harry is our son!", Lily said, waving a mashed potato spatula in James' face emphatically as she spoke.

James replied lowly, voice slowly getting more anguished as he spoke, "I know, I know, I know. I can't help it when I look into his eyes! The only difference between his and You-Know-Who's is that Harry's are still round! Every time I look at them, I can't help but think that one night I'm going to wake up to _that night_ all over again!"

Lily's temper flared as she stabbed the bowl of potatoes with her spatula, "Harry isn't going to murder us in our sleep! I just spent an entire afternoon with him, surrounded by pointy objects of all sorts! If he wanted me dead or out of the picture I'd have been long gone!"

Harry wasn't sure which was worse, the fact that Lily just referenced their cooking time as almost like a test, or the sheer lack of trust James had for him. It's not like he could blame him either, since Harry had thought the same back then. Red eyes DID in fact only exist amongst a very small number of people, and always was the result of dark, twisted rituals.

And now, his son shared iris colour with the Dark Lord. Harry would have laughed if it hadn't just crossed his mind that he was supposed to be _ten_ , not even close to the age of the average dark wizard. Something had happened to this world's Harry, something very wrong. He grimly realised that it was a blessing for James that he didn't know that.

Even more reason to never meet Dumbledore.

"Would it help if I did a glamour charm?", asked Harry quietly. James and Lily both stilled and looked at Harry like he grew a second head. Eventually, James nodded. Lily frowned disapprovingly at James but made no further comment.

"I'll teach you how to…", James trailed off as he witnessed the red transition to bright green, the same exact hue of his wife's, before his very eyes.

Harry gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his ears as he commented, "Just thought we should get this over with."

James stilled, but nodded curtly. Lily, however, gaped as she studied the green eyes. The thought that Harry had done so both wandlessly and wordlessly seemed to never occur to her as she put down the plate of mashed potato without taking her eyes away. Meandering over to Harry slowly, walking like a zombie, she suddenly threw her hands over Harry's shoulders with teary eyes.

"Welcome back, Harry."

Harry felt overwhelmed with the outburst of emotions. Unbidden memories of his Hogwarts years surfaced briefly, memories that he had long since locked away into his subconscious. He curled his fist, forcing his mind to suppress the memories back like he always did.

Eventually, Lily had left to fetch the youngest member of the family. As she left, Harry spoke up, "You should try the brussel sprouts. Mum really did an amazing job with them."

James made a face, "Cursed mini-cabbages.", but then his facial expression softened, "But I think I'll make an exception this one time."

After a brief wait, a surly Adam traipsed down the stairs after his mother. He was pointedly looking at anywhere but Harry, even as he sat down next to him.

"Could you pass the gravy, Mum?"

Lily looked like she was about to mention how the gravy was actually much closer to Harry, but stopped herself upon seeing the look from Harry. With a huff, she passed the boat over.

Adam peered into the boat warily, something unreadable passing through his eyes, before he poured just a little onto his turkey. Taking a bite out of it, he let out a small gasp.

He asked Lily with bright eyes, "Mum, did Dipsy finally teach you how to make this gravy?"

Lily replied smoothly, "Your brother did, he helped me cook dinner today."

Adam paused mid-chew as he shot a surprised look at Harry, who shifted under his gaze. Leave it to the twin-brother-he'd-just-met to cause a dark wizard to act his age.

"You made this—hey, what happened to your eyes?", Adam asked, suddenly noticing the change.

James interjected, saving Harry from thinking up some half-assed excuse, "They're as they used to be. Now, stop making Harry uncomfortable and eat your food."

Adam glared at his dad childishly and speared a brussel sprout viciously. Harry winced as it nearly split into two evenly. However, Adam stayed silent for the rest of the dinner, occasionally glancing at Harry curiously but obeyed his father's request. When the meal came to a close, Lily started handing out strawberry shortcakes. As Harry picked at the dessert, he noticed a strained look on Adam's face.

Sort of similar to the look on prisoners' faces as their friends betrayed all their secrets.

"Say, Harry…", Adam asked, "what's your favourite dessert?"

"I...what?", Harry eloquently said. Of all the things to ask—

Adam grunted impatiently and said, "Humour me."

"Treacle tart, but why?", Harry asked.

Adam's shoulders seemed to relax a little bit at his answer. He shook his head as he speared the entire treat with his fork and took a bite, "No reason."

* * *

After cleaning up, Lily relaxed against the soft cushiony backrest of her living room couch. Harry had been such a help, proving James' misgivings about him wrong. James was still being stubborn about things but she dearly hoped that they could make up. It was nothing short of a blessing that their son was returned on Christmas night, and she'd be damned if she'd let her suspicions run wild.

In truth, being around Harry while cooking took some time getting used to. He moved around the kitchen with a finesse that even she didn't possess, especially after they got Dipsy. She forbade both her sons from touching any hot kitchen items in the past, but Harry got the turkey marinated and into the oven with nary a second wasted. Wherever Harry had been, he had somehow gotten used to cooking in a kitchen.

Not to mention the gravy. Lily was certain that the gravy's recipe was the exact same one that they used at Hogwarts during the Christmas Eve's feast. Even before tasting it, Lily could smell the same concentration of star anise from a mile away. Lily fondly remembered James' first order to Dipsy wasn't to clean or anything, but rather she had to go to Hogwarts and learn the recipe. She had chewed out James relentlessly until Dipsy returned.

"You and Harry make quite the meal.", James said softly, plopping down next to her with a cup of decaffeinated tea. Lily shot him a half-hearted glare, not fully forgiving him for his antics at dinner. James returned a placating grin, handing her the cup and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Lily's glare softened as she admired the blue swirl design on the ceramic.

"It wasn't me, Harry did everything. He's a force to be reckoned with when it comes to using a knife and spice set.", she said, leaning into James' side.

Her husband grinned, "A spice not used is a spice to lose. Thank goodness Harry knows how to season everything, Dipsy listens to you too much about being 'healthy'."

James' grin was then replaced with a serious look, "Hey Lils, did you notice the gravy was a bit...familiar?"

Lily took a sip from her cup, "It tasting exactly like Hogwarts? Yeah, I did."

"You don't think— "

Lily nudged James' side lightly, "No, silly. If he went to Hogwarts we would've known. Besides, you know how much Harry doesn't like Dumbledore."

James and her shared a good laugh at the memory of a diminutive Harry shooting daggers at the old headmaster. Truly, if looks could kill then Dumbledore would have died several times in their house. Harry had refused to be in the same room as Dumbledore—

Suddenly, James audibly groaned, putting his face in his hands. Lily looked at him worriedly,

"Stomachache? You did eat a lot of turkey today."

James shook his head, face still in contact with his fingers, "I think I know why he tried sneaking out again. I...I may have threatened to go to Dumbledore about his amnesia problem to see how he'd react."

Something sank in Lily's chest. "You did?", she asked, "Why?"

His face somehow found more space in his palms to disappear into, "I thought he was...you know, what I said during dinner."

Lily felt like she should be furious. However, she couldn't find it in herself to do so, so instead she just sighed and said, "James…even if he had done something unthinkable, he's still your son. Our son. He's our flesh and blood, I won't let you make him feel like an outsider in his home."

James shook his head, "No, it's not...of course I don't want my son to feel an outcast in my home! There's just something off about…"

Abruptly, he stood up with a determined gaze, "I'll have a chat with him again. Nothing will be solved when we're just suspicious of one another."

He walked over to the stairs and turned back, looking at Lily expectantly. Lily pursed her lips, debating whether she wanted to, before shaking her head. James stuttered, flabbergasted, "W-what? Even if you're not worried, we still have to know what happened so he can protect him!"

Before dinner, Lily would have agreed with James. However, she didn't feel like she had the burning desire to interrogate her son any longer.

"Maybe earlier, I would have agreed. There are a lot of things that don't add up with Harry, especially when he casted that glamour wandlessly. However…", a small forlorn smile crept up on her face as she remembered the brilliant green eyes that their son had, "call it a mother's intuition, call it brazen ignorance. I don't know which it is, but I can just feel that Harry means no harm to us."

She dearly hoped that Harry, regardless of his past, had come back just to reunite with their family. A small part of her knew that this was wishful thinking, but she ignored it. Even if Harry had come back with some sort of ulterior motive, what kind of motive would a pre-teen have that'd be so dangerous?

She just hoped she wasn't wrong.

James, however, thought differently, "Well, I'm still going."

Watching her husband disappear up the steps, she took another sip from the teacup, only to realize that there was nothing left. She looked at the empty cup with a sad smile.

* * *

Harry went up the stairs long after Adam bade farewell to the dinner table. He retired to his room with a satisfied glow, not from his stomach which gurgled happily from being full, but from the long cooking session. Cooking had been one of the few activities that he actually liked back at the Dursleys'. It allowed him time to think, reflect on things that took longer than a five minute shower to solve. However, cooking alone at the Dursleys' was a chaotic mess due to being frequently interrupted by his raging walrus of an uncle. Cooking with Lily, however, was almost therapeutic.

It took everything to hold his tongue. Something about the way Lily looked at him, the way that she just seemed to _trust_ in him despite Harry's stubborn refusal to talk about his 'disappearance'. Whilst he was none the wiser, it wasn't like he could tell her even if he wanted to. The alternative story was even less believable, not to mention Harry didn't find the notion of telling the truth very enticing. Ruining everything he's built up to wasn't something he wanted to make a habit out of.

Whilst he would love nothing more than to mingle with his parents, he didn't dare assume he had any right to. Besides, Harry knew the amnesia excuse was flimsy at best, and any prolonged conversation with them would only result in revealing information that best remained hidden.

Staying away from James and Lily hurt though. His parents, at home with him, it was how it's meant to be. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were nearly parental figures, with Sirius being a sort of a much older brother, but there was still something missing. Would Molly Weasley lay down her life to save his, just like his parents did in his world? Of course, this was hypothetical considering how he'd ended up.

He bent over on the desk, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His glamour held spectacularly, not even flickering as he moved his eyes from side to side, admiring his handiwork. He raised his hand to shift a bang away, only to hiss in pain as something sliced into his hand. He glared at the desk, thinking it was an errant piece of wood.

It was not, but rather a shiny pointy shard of metal sticking out of the drawer's lock. The metal retracted into the keyhole and the sound of the mechanism unlocking resonated through the table.

_That was a blood sacrifice lock! What's dark runic magic doing in a kid's bedroom?!_

When the drawer made no further sound or movements, Harry gingerly placed his hand under the drawer and pulled. It opened without a sound, signifying a well-oiled mechanism. Whoever made this seal must have not wanted it to rust away with time. As Harry looked in, a chill ran down his back.

Laying there almost mockingly was an obsidian dagger with runic inscriptions within. A Catalyst. _A fitting name_ , he thought morosely as he came face to face with the catalyst of everything that happened. As he hatefully stared at the dagger, it started to vibrate, giving off a low drumming sound into the table.

As if it recognized it's maker, his bottle-cap necklace started emitting a high pitched whine. Harry looked at his necklace in shock as each of the bottle caps began giving off a black smoke. He shoved the drawer back in, disgusted and disturbed. Thankfully, his necklace almost immediately stopped giving off the sound and had reverted back to a normal necklace. He wondered if his alternate self had known—

_No. The red eyes. He'd have known._

"Harry. Can we talk for a bit?", a voice said apprehensively. Harry froze as James stood in the doorway.

_Did he see what happened?_

Praying that Fate looked favourably upon him for once, he nodded to the bed not trusting his words. James sat down with a soft thud as Harry sat in the desk chair, back pressed against the drawer to make sure it didn't pop back out.

So far, James' eyes hadn't trailed to the drawer. A good sign, but Harry still needed him out of the room as soon as possible. There was a good chance James wouldn't recognise it, but if he went to Dumbledore? No chance.

"Harry, I wanted to ask you about the years you were...travelling away from home.", James started.

"I thought we'd established that I had amnesia. I didn't know it was contagious.", Harry mumbled crossly, wanting to be anywhere but in the room with him.

James looked taken aback but pressed on, "I didn't forget. I'm just not sure you told the whole story. You remember some things, Harry, things that we should know."

But he didn't. At least, not about this world's Harry. He held his head up defiantly, "And what do you know about me that I don't? I'm telling you, my brain holds nothing but daisies and sunshine right now."

"Well, for one, you can explain how you know wandless and wordless glamour charms. Care to explain?", James asked.

"It was accidental! I don't know what I did!", Harry lied defensively. Oh of course, he'll just up and tell James that he was taught by the Dark Lord of another universe. Like that would go over well.

James' glare stayed for a few seconds before it smoothed away, "Of course, I forgot about that. You ARE of the age when accidental magic is at its peak after all..."

Now it was Harry's turn to be taken aback by how easily James accepted that excuse. Was it really that easy? His answer came in the form of the smallest sliver of clothing at the door indicating that their conversation was no longer private.

James casted a look that clearly stated their conversation wasn't finished and said loudly, "You can come in Adam, we were just finishing up."

Adam stood in the door frame with an embarrassed look, shifting from one foot to the other. James gave Harry a final warning glare before leaving the room with a flourish, sliding past Adam without a sound.

"Merlin's pants, I've never seen Dad so angry in a while. What were you two talking about?", Adam asked, planting himself into the same seat that James took up. Harry groaned internally, at this point wanting nothing more than to be left alone.

Sure he said he wanted to learn about his alternate self, but the appearance of a Catalyst in his bedroom takes precedence over faffing about with ten year olds any day!

"I haven't the faintest. What are you doing, anyways? I thought you were still throwing a fit and ignoring me.", Harry said. The entire time, he didn't dare take his eyes off the drawer.

Adam sheepishly scratched the back of his head, "Yeah—uh, sorry about that. I was being a right arse with you and I'd like to apologise."

"Apologise? What made you stop being a little kid?"

Adam grinned, the opposite reaction of what Harry had intended, "Knew you'd sass me, nice to know you haven't changed that much."

He slid over to sitting directly in front of Harry, balancing precariously on the wooden footboard, "So amnesia, huh? You hit your head too hard on something?"

"Yeah, your thick skull." Harry's palms started to sweat at the close proximity between Adam and him, and by extension the Catalyst. He stole a glance at the lightning bolt scar on Adam's forehead. If his horcrux resonated with the Catalyst, there was no knowing what kind of reaction the one in Adam's head would have.

"Just trying to be friendly here. Blimey, Harry did I interrupt your private time or something?"

Sniggering, Adam landed on his feet as Harry spluttered out denials. How in the world did a ten year old even know that sort of thing?! Must be the Weasleys or something.

"I'll come back later for our chat. Don't worry, I won't tell mum.", Adam said with a wink. As soon as he stepped into the hall, Harry let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

"AHA!", a familiar voice shouted. Harry swore as Adam poked his head back in.

"I knew you wanted me out of the room. What are you hiding?", Adam teased. Harry sent him an annoyed look.

"Nothing. Oh wait, there is something — my burning desire to chop your head off the muggle way if you don't fuck off.", Harry said.

Adam saluted mockingly. He opened his mouth to say something in stride, but thought better of it. Suddenly, Harry was treated with a serious look, a far cry from the confident front that Adam presented earlier.

"Alright, I'll go. But Harry, you're my brother. Amnesia or not, I can tell when something is bothering you. Right now that sense is ringing full tilt in my head nonstop. I bet mum and dad can too, that's why they're acting stranger than norm—well, as normal as having a missing son come back after two years."

"And what's that to you?", Harry asked, keeping his face with his withering glare. Adam shrank back for a second but strengthened his resolve, hazel eyes boring straight into Harry's.

"We're family—not just that, you're my twin brother. I know Dad thinks you're some sort of suspicious bloke right now, but it's because we don't know anything. You can't really blame him, he's been trained to notice stuff out of the ordinary, and you're anything but. If you talk things over with us, we can help you."

Harry shook his head, thoroughly done with this conversation, "Trust me, there's nothing to tell for now."

Adam sighed, "Got it. Just...if you ever need to talk to someone, I'll always be here. I can even promise not to tell mum or dad."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, "You know you're stubbornly annoying right?"

A cheeky, but half-hearted, grin wormed its way back onto Adam's face, "Ginny—my friend's sister—once said our parents named me after the word 'adamant'. I'd like to think I live up to it."

Harry couldn't help but give a crooked smile at the poor pun. When he gave no further comment, Adam took it as cue to leave. Just as he turned around, he asked Harry one final question, "Oh, hey, we're going to Blackpool tomorrow to see the lights. Interested?"

Despite himself, Harry's curiosity got the better of him, "Lights? But I thought they stopped those after November."

"The magical folk over there hold one for Yule every year. They have muggle-repellent charms and Notice-Me-Nots everywhere to keep the Muggles out. It's just a bit farther north from the muggle city."

At first, Harry wanted to refuse so he could find out why there was a Catalyst here. However, going to Blackpool meant getting out of the house, and he realized that there most likely wasn't any help to solve the mystery here. Eventually, he assented.

Adam shouted victoriously and practically skipped down the hall back to his room. Listening to his twin prancing away, Harry couldn't help but smile at his antics.

* * *

After spending more time with the Catalyst and ascertaining that it wasn't a danger to anyone at present, Harry re-sealed the blood lock of the drawer by giving it another drop of blood from his finger. Sucking on the wound absentmindedly, he gave himself a whiff and decided he needed a shower. Thus, with a pair of fresh t-shirt and knickers, he entered the bathroom and immediately began taking off his clothing.

As soon as he stepped into the shower, he felt like he was in heaven. Warm showers were a luxury back in his world once the war kicked off, he usually had to settle for charms for spot cleaning and buckets of water when on a mission. The annoying thing was, _Aguamenti_ doesn't do hot water so oftentimes he'd just take a dip in a river instead. This was miles better than a swim in a creek.

He got the bar of soap and lathered his skin with soap suds, grazing over his pale skin contrasting with the dark snake coiled on his left forearm, reminding him of his—

When realisation hit him, the bar of soap came crashing down onto the bathtub with a thud. Using his free hand, he gingerly traced the mark on his skin, watching in horror as it moved as if being touched. It wasn't quite the Dark Mark (it was missing the skull) but he could feel that the signature was one and the same as his last one.

His heart clenched as Harry surmised his past self must have gotten involved with the Dark Lord. Even in another dimension, Harry had somehow screwed up.

There were way too many parallels to him, but it made no sense. His alternate was only ten years old, for Merlin's sake!

Red eyes, possession of a Catalyst, marked by the Dark Lord himself, all within two years which was the same approximate time frame he'd been in the service of the Dark Lord as well…

Nothing added up, but at the same time it painted a very distinct image. Harry didn't quite feel like enjoying his shower anymore.

James leaned against the bedpost, racking his brain for answers. There was definitely something off about Harry, it was almost like he was talking to a different person. Sure, the cool sarcasm matched him to a tee, but anyone that spent more than five minutes with Harry could've figured that out.

"Still thinking about Harry, love?", Lily asked from his side. James nodded, rubbing his fingers together like there was grime in his fingertips.

"There's something wrong with him. You know the necklace that he wears all the time, that bottle cap one?"

Lily murmured an affirmative, getting herself into a comfortable sitting position for the long conversation ahead.

"When I got to his room, he had the drawer open. You know the one Dumbledore warned us about, how it was sealed tight by a blood ward? It was open—he'd opened it.", James rattled off, tempo steadily increasing as he spoke.

Lily bent her knee and held it against her chest, breathing slightly quickened. James waited patiently for her reply. Lily always had a soft spot for Harry, even right after the fiasco surrounding his...departure. She had always taken his side.

"Cut to the chase, James. Playing coy doesn't suit you.", she said. Lily could always tell what kind of mood he's worked up, even when he tried to hide beneath a veneer of bravado. He's not quite as good at spousal face readings as she is though, and the emotionless tone she used worried him greatly.

"I...I think...no, I'm worried he's going to repeat last time. The amnesia excuse...I'd bet my racing broom that he's not amnesiac. He's too aware, too—"

He cut off when Lily placed a hand on James' cheek, causing him to stop. It was then he felt his pulse racing in his ears, how _unfathomably hot_ it was getting. Lily replied with a teasing lilt, "I've noticed. He's not amnesiac, I agree with you. However, I think you're off about him repeating the incident two years ago. It might be too soon to draw any conclusions, but I'd imagine living away from home for so long has been hard on him. Perhaps he's come to realize that home is where it's safest."

"So he thinks of us as a lifeline, then?", James sniffed waspishly. He turned towards Lily, who wore a far-off expression. For a second, he thought it reminded him of a convict that he'd had escorted out of Azkaban. A portly fellow who once owned a tavern, sentenced to thirty years in Azkaban for some nonsensical charge, was released on time only to see his tavern taken over and his bank account seized by the Ministry. He'd sat in front of the Twilfitt and Tattings store, formerly Walloping from Oscar's, for hours until a sweet young lady came up to him.

"What kind of family would we be if we can't give our son one when he needs it?"

The expression reminded James of the expression the man wore when he recognized the lady as his daughter.

* * *

A mother combed her daughter's hair lovingly as the girl laid sleeping. Her skin was mottled green in several exposed places, and the blemish-free parts were a light blue tone. Her fingertips looked frostbitten. Besides the mother sat a table-sized cauldron, filled with a simmering dark orange liquid. Her husband's long hair came mere inches away from the lip of the pot.

"Xeno, if you're not careful you'll be part of the potion soon.", the woman warned softly, eyes not trailing away from the girl in front of her. Her husband, Xeno, recoiled away from the cauldron as if stung. He looked worryingly at his wife,

"You don't have to do this Pandora. The healers at St. Mungos, they're the best at what they do. They'll find a way eventually."

Pandora scoffed, replying sarcastically, "If they could, they would've a hundred years ago. It's not like the malady was invented yesterday. Instead, all we got was a prescription for endless Draughts Of Living Death and stasis charms."

"It's the best option we have! This one you're about to do is basically suicide, and it's not even guaranteed to work on parasites! Not only that, she's been under for a year now, the healers aren't even sure if her brain can function at this point! How do we know the Runner wasn't leading you on for the money?!"

Pandora uncharacteristically raised her voice and said, "Xeno, the Runner never accepted payment for this potion. The money that would've been given to him had been spent repaying our debts from the draughts."

"W-What? So, he did it for free?!"

Pandora nodded sadly, "And once this is all over, we'll have our daughter back. We'll be debt-free. It'll be like normal again."

"Normal?! In what world is being a widower considered normal? Please, Pandora, do reconsider this!"

Pandora ignored his pleas as she spoke again, mostly to herself this time, "When the Runner said that this potion requires blood of the most loyal, I immediately assumed I could've used yours. Seeing you as you are right now, I highly doubt the potion would agree with that."

Xeno replied hopefully, "So does that mean that— "

"Luckily for us, the Runner gave me a backup plan.", she interrupted, holding up a vial of red liquid that was undeniably blood. She moved in a trance-like state, uncapping the vial with a single stroke. Using her other hand, she levitated her daughter's body, hovering it just inches about the cauldron. She used the bed as a stepping stone to enter the cauldron, ignoring the heat as much as she could whilst pouring the blood in. Ignoring her husband's wailing she began chanting,

" _Noctuque Noctuque, I of sound body and mind plead thee; transfer my daughter's malady and all its effects to me. I will bear the burden willingly, so mote it be._ "

The girl's body fell into the cauldron as the script finished, face barely floating above the waterline. The liquid started to glow, emitting a worrying amount of steam. Despite Xeno's desperate cries for Pandora to leave the cauldron, she closed her eyes as she lost feeling in her toes. The pain from the boiling liquid cooking her skin had long passed any normal human threshold, and with one final shudder of the cauldron she flopped backwards, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

_I can only hope life will be less cruel to you in the future than it has already been, Luna. Live for yourself. Enjoy life for all it has to offer._

Grey eyes shot open with a gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I'm doing anything wrong or well! It's my first fic in a LONG time, and I'm not sure if I'm even using this tagging system correctly.


	5. Blackpool and Black

Adam felt nauseous, tightly holding the lip of his seat as the Knight Bus sped onwards to Blackpool in the rain. Leave it to his dad to forget when Padfoot's Portkey was set to go off. Now, they were stuck on a purple bus that sped at too-many miles per hour— _did they just jump onto a railroad?!—_ across half the country, taking everything from quiet country roads to unpaved country roads.

Honestly, his dad deserved the chewing out that mum gave him, 'if you had at least told me when and where this Portkey was, we'd be there half an hour ago!'. His dad kept his nose buried in a _Daily Prophet_ for the rest of the trip. He'd occasionally pop his head out to check which stop

"Next stop Blackpool! Blackpool! 'member to pick up your toothbrushes on the way out!", called out the bus driver.

This was Adam's second time on the bus. The first time, he and Harry had gotten lost in the woods near the Burrow after chasing a garden gnome too far into the wilderness. The tiny bugger had them running for so long the sun had gone from middle-of-the-sky to hiding-behind-hills by the end of it. Luckily, a wizard coming home had given them both a free ride when he'd found them, some bloke named Amos Diggory. Harry tried to refuse the help—he'd always had a hard time trusting strangers—but eventually gave up when Adam right near collapsed into his twin.

The bus suddenly lurched as the driver completely ignored a speed bump, sending everyone's seats into the air. Adam shakingly dared to take a shallow breath, unable to handle holding it in anymore. Something plastic was thrust into his chest as the bus hit another speed bump.

"Here, use this."

Not a moment later, Adam's mouth overflowed and his morning muffin came schlopping into whatever he was holding. A firm hand pressed circles into his back, rubbing him gently as he evacuated his stomach's contents.

Lily smothered his face with a serviette once the torrent ended. He dimly noted her scolding the driver for his abhorrent driving skills. He dry-heaved, having long since emptied his stomach.

"Just a little bit more, we're almost there."

Adam hoped so, for his throat's sake. He wouldn't want to see Uncle Padfoot smelling of throw-up. The bus stopped then, sending everyone to their knees and emptying what little was left in his stomach.

"Blackpool!", the bus driver hollered a bit too loudly. Lily immediately hoisted Adam onto his wobbly legs, muttering something about 'blithering drivers' and guided him off the bus as he clutched his throw-up.

Harry stood off to the side of the exit, his hair matting down from rain, "If you're quite done with it, I'd like my jacket back now."

Adam realized why his barf bag seemed so large—it was the hood of a cagoule. His brother's, from the way he was looking at him pointedly. He quickly poured out the sick from the hood and passed it over.

"You were supposed to use the bag.", Harry said, pointing at the cagoule's floppy container tied to a sleeve. It's dangling seemed to taunt Adam's already injured pride.

"Eh heh...sorry about the hood.", he laughed nervously. Harry waved off his apology, taking off the hood and putting the cagoule on without looking at Adam.

"Hood's nothing, I can just wash it in the rain. Having your sick on my shoes though, that'll take ages to clean off."

Adam grinned, "Well you'd better hope we don't take the Bus back or you'll be swimming in it."

" _Swimming—_ last time I helped you, you ungrateful brat.", Harry groused, green eyes glowing with amusement. Glamoured eyes they may be, but Adam didn't care—he missed his brother, and at this moment it seemed like he had never left at all. His ears reddened as Harry caught him staring, judging by the raised eyebrow.

"Less talking, more moving boys! We were supposed to be at Caldwell's a while ago!", Lily called out. Adam quickened his pace, keeping pace with Harry just in front of him.

* * *

They squeezed into Caldwell's, a dingy seafood shack at the entrance to wizarding Blackpool. The shack had a few Muggle customers enjoying a quiet holiday meal alone and a few not-so-Muggle customers looking out of place with their outrageous outfits. Whenever a wizard ambled in looking for the entrance into wizarding Blackpool, the bartender would gruffly point to the back exit that seemed like a kitchen door at first glance. Waiters would then wave their wands to Obliviate their Muggle customers.

Harry idly wondered whether these Muggles would even remember the way home.

A frazzled young waitress bustled her way over with a notepad, taking a second to catch her breath as she got to their table, "W-welcome to Caldwell's, you here for the evening magic show?"

_Are you magical?_

James fielded the question seamlessly, "I'm part of the lights show, my family's here to watch."

_Yes, we're looking to go to wizarding Blackpool._

The waitress sighed in relief as her shoulders visibly relaxed. She reached into her pouch and pulled out a few cards with moving pictures, handing them out to the family, "Oh thank goodness, you won't believe how many Muggles have come in over this holiday. Anyways, here are the special menus for _entertainers_. My name's Betty, I'll be back in a bit to take your orders."

She bustled back to another table, wand held high as she casted another memory charm over an adjacent table. Harry took a look at the short wizarding menu, which came with fanciful images of overly-rotund wizards chowing down on them with glee.

_Butterbeer Fish and Chips — 4 sickles_

_Black Pudding with Anglerfish — 6 sickles_

_Seared Murtlap — 7 sickles_

_Firewhiskey (shot) — 2 sickles_

_Firewhiskey (bottle) — 1 galleon_

_Butterbeer — 4 sickles_

Between the ghastly pictures and the…inspired dishes, as well as thinking about the hood underneath him, Harry was glad he'd eaten before coming.

Adam on the other hand had seemingly forgotten about his recent episode of puking and ordered a black pudding. Harry shot him a withering look, "Oh no you don't, I am not having regurgitated blood and fish in my hood."

Adam retorted with pink cheeks, "I won't need your hood, I was just taken by surprise. It's only the second time I've taken the bus."

"Second?", Harry asked distractedly, watching two barflies whispering animatedly whilst occasionally sending glances in their direction.

"Yeah, you were there—oh, right, amnesia.", Adam finished lamely. His eyes brightened suddenly, looking like he had something important to say, but stopped when Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. One of the barflies had jumped off his stool and stumbled his way to their table, stinking of firewhiskey and sweat.

Harry tensed as his finger trailed over the edge of the table, testing it to make sure it wasn't bolted to the floor. The drunk grinned nastily at the family, showing his yellowing teeth that sorely needed some corrections, and hiccuped, "'er da Boy-Who-Lived, ain't yah? C-can I git'y name?"

Even being reborn Harry couldn't get away from the paparazzi. Life's never peaceful for him. He scowled and opened his mouth to respond negatively when a voice behind him replied, "Ah, sure! Ah, let me just find my quill, I have it here somewhere…"

Harry whipped around in disbelief as Adam hastily shrugged off his cagoule, rummaging through his shirt pocket to produce a brilliantly gaudy red and orange quill. He took his and Harry's Muggle menus and hastily scribbled his signature on them, ink coming from the tip like a fountain pen's. He winked at the barfly and made a show of looking around before he lowered his voice, "Best keep this between us, I've got some real important business to take care of. Here's another for your buddy over there."

The barfly nodded fervently, clutching the menu to his chest as he did so. He left the Potters table to waddle back to his friend at the bar, chattering excitedly to himself all the while.

Harry quickly wiped the stunned look from his face. Of _course,_ he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived in this universe. Letting out an annoyed sigh and ignoring the odd look James was giving him, he murmured to Adam, "Didn't know you carried a quill for fans."

"Someone tried to make me sign a glamoured marriage contract with a blood quill once.", Adam replied cheerfully. Despite the...unseemly nature of his fan, Adam seemed to brighten up at being recognised by a stranger.

"And you're okay with the fame? The way people everywhere know your name.", Harry asked waspishly. He was beginning to see the differences between himself and Adam. The word conceited began floating around in his mind.

"Fame's nice. It's nice to see people happy when I sign their stuff, brightens both our days a bit.", Adam replied, watching the two barflies hold up their Muggle menus like a trophy. His cheerful expression never wavered.

Before Harry could make any sort of comment, the waitress came back holding a tray of glasses and a pitcher for the table. She shot a look of disgust at the bar and asked them worriedly, "Did Langley give you any trouble earlier?"

Adam replied off-handedly, "Nah, he just wanted to chat a bit about where we're from. Didn't seem to believe that southerners would come here for a winter vacation."

The waitress shot him a look of disbelief but didn't press them any further, "Right...anyways, have you decided what to order yet?"

Lily silenced Adam with a warning look before she replied, "Two butterbeers for the adults and two hot cocoas for the children, please. I'm afraid we can't stay for too long."

As the waitress left to put the order in, Adam said hotly, "Hey, I'm actually hungry! Dad, don't tell me you aren't raring to try the anglerfish!"

Harry belatedly realised that James had never taken his furrowed eyes off of him since the barfly visited, and judging from the coughing fit neither had James, "I-I uh, don't know what you're talking about. Listen to your mother about this, Adam."

"Why, has the great Prongs finally admitted that he's whipped?"

Harry's battered heart turned to ice as he heard the slightly husky voice. He robotically turned his head to the exit to see Sirius Black saunter over with an exaggerated swagger. The mischievous black eyes, the full cheeks, here was Sirius healthier than Harry had ever seen him. He looked _happy_ , a measure of pride graced every step he took, something Harry had never seen before.

Of course, Sirius had no clue what he was on about.

"Hey Prongslet, you feeling okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.", Sirius said jokingly.

He wasn't. He wasn't! Sirius wasn't supposed to be here at all! How could he explain—no, he can't! His heart thrummed with the stampede of a hundred thestrals, each one making its mark on the thin string that is his sanity. He sorely wanted to grab Sirius by the lapels and beg. Beg for forgiveness, if nothing else but to fill the void that his heart has turned into. He _yearned_.

"I'm fine."

He most certainly was not, but he couldn't admit it. He'd already caused one Sirius to shoulder too much. Harry vowed to at least protect this Sirius, keep him safe from everything.

A low buzz echoed in the background.

* * *

Sirius soon left the family, claiming he had something to hand into the Auror outpost there before joining up with them for the day trip. Lily soon split off as well, leaving James with the two Potter children.

Wizarding Blackpool had a quaint charm to it, providing a captivating but diametrically opposing face to the bustle of Muggle Blackpool. With the rain subsiding to a light drizzle, the town's denizens were cautiously starting to go about their daily routines. The houses and shops were scattered throughout the area without any identifiable road to connect them. It seemed more like a nomadic tribe's temporary residence than any permanent hamlet.

Things seemed to move at a snail's pace here and once you stepped away from the ocean there was nary a soul out there. It's like the ocean and it's treasures were the beating heart of the village. In fact, aside from the boardwalk the only other tourist attractions seemed to be a rather large bookstore, a seer of ostentatious origins, a quaint Quidditch shop, and a confectionery.

James' voice was quick to cut off Harry's musings, "Harry! Adam! Come over here for a moment?"

Adam bounced over while Harry followed with a slower pace. James produced two little pouches, both tinkling with the sounds of coins. He waved them in their faces.

"Here, take these coins and buy some presents for yourselves while we're here. Don't let your mother know who gave the money.", James whispered, nodding his head to the confectionery they were in front of. Adam excitedly disappeared into the shop, not looking back even once.

Harry had a sweet tooth like any sane human—well, that might not be the perfect comparison, but the idea is still valid. However, seeing Sirius in the morning had turned his world upside-down, and thus right now he wasn't sure if even a treacle tart would sit well with him. No, a treacle tart wouldn't help him, but it would look weird if he said no to sweets. Languidly, Harry dragged his feet to the sweets shop after Adam whilst debating whether he should just pocket the galleons instead.

Maybe this world's incarnation of Knockturn Alley had some hidden gems.

"Wait, Harry."

Harry didn't think his mood could get any worse, but somehow James' voice grated on his already-frayed nerves _just so_.

"What do you want?", Harry snapped, unintentionally making it harsher than he wanted.

James looked taken aback by the sudden outburst. At first James seemed ready to snap back but, apparently thinking better of it he instead said, "I just wanted to check up with you, see if there's anywhere else you wanted to go."

See if there was somewhere else Harry wanted to go? That practically screamed set-up, but surely a seasoned Auror like James wouldn't be so obvious. There was something fishy going on, but he wasn't sure whether James merely underestimated him or it's another thing entirely.

Anyhow, Blackpool had a large bookstore with a sizable dark arts section. So far away from London, the Ministry would undoubtedly only send perfunctory inspections here, making it one of the few viable commercial options to start his search for the _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ book. If not, then his only hope would be to raid some pureblood's family library.

Somehow, Harry doubted that the Malfoys or Sirius would be too keen on letting him raid their libraries for Dark Arts books.

"Maybe we can go to the bookstore at the edge of town?"

James raised an eyebrow, "The bookstore? You're interested in _reading_ on a vacation?"

Harry glowered, "Well, sorry if I didn't meet your expectations. Would you rather we go ogle at Chasers instead?"

Thankfully, Lily forced herself in between the two before James could reply, "Honestly! James, are you hassling Harry again? I thought we discussed this last night!"

James looked understandably miffed, "I wasn't hassling Harry, I just wanted to know whether he wanted to visit the Quidditch shop on the other side of town!"

Harry bristled at James taking his words and using them, but didn't call him out on it.

"Well, he's clearly made his choice, didn't he? And since this is a _family_ vacation, I hope that we're making space for the bookstore later!"

James hastily voiced his agreement just as Adam bounded back out from the store, holding bags upon bags of candy. Lily's mouth hung open as she witnessed the overflowing amounts of Chocolate Frogs and Licorice Wands.

"...James? How much money did you give Adam?"

James paled as he turned his head, "Just a few—", and he dashed off, robes soaking with rainwater as he trampled over a puddle. Lily glared at his quickly vanishing figure, then turned to Adam and said stiffly, "That candy better last until we visit Diagon Alley this summer."

Adam bobbed his head furiously, not wanting to incur Lily's wrath any more than James did.

Lily sighed through her nose, looking like she was on the brink of a headache. After taking a personal second she called out to the two kids, "Let's go to the bookstore next then find your father. He's probably gone off to the Quidditch shop already, and knowing your father he'll still be there by the time we leave."

"Yes ma'am", Harry and Adam chorused. Harry was quickly getting the impression that despite looking like the most serene woman ever, Lily Potter was the one wearing the pants in this relationship. She had an immense temper for it, anyhow.

Harry counted his lucky stars that she'd taken his side over James'.

"Hey Harry, want some?", Adam asked, holding out a small bag with the confectionery's logo to Harry. Harry stared at the bag blankly, not sure what to make of it. Adam clearly had a bigger sweet tooth than he did.

Sensing Harry's hesitance, Adam explained himself, "I saw you didn't go into the candy shop, so I picked out some stuff for you. I didn't get you a Christmas gift, so hopefully this makes up for it!."

Christmas gift? Harry couldn't recall when was the last time he'd celebrated Christmas. His body seemed to feel strangely light in response, as if there was supposed to be another layer that he'd ought to be wearing. Which was strange, seeing as he's wearing a woollen pea coat and was slightly too warm in it.

"I didn't get you anything for Christmas though."

Adam waved it off and gave him another one of his cheeky grins, to which Harry commented snidely, "I'm surprised that your face doesn't have wrinkles from grinning like that all the time."

Contrary to what he expected, the corners of Adam's mouth inched even closer to his ears, eerily resembling a Cheshire Cat. It didn't help that his coat had wide stripes running across horizontally.

"Must be because of my good diet. Licorice wands do wonders for complexion, you should read the _Witch Weekly_ more often. It was on last week's issue.", Adam deadpanned, waving Harry's gift in front of him obnoxiously.

"No it did not say that!", Lily shouted over her shoulder.

Harry stifled a giggle. It's been a while since someone had freely run their tongue in front of him.

"I didn't know you read the _Witch Weekly_.", Harry whispered to Adam.

Adam decided he'd had enough holding Harry's gift and thrusted it into his chest forcefully. Hazel eyes glittered with amusement as he shot a mischievous look at Lily's back.

"I found it on the washroom's counter last Friday. Fantastic reading material whilst on the can, that. I wonder how it got in there though.", he whispered back conspiratorially.

Harry could've sworn he heard Lily squeak in embarrassment.

It felt nice to be part of a family again. The last time he'd heard banter like this was with the Weasley's.

_George's anguished cry as he was felled, stabbed in the back by his own former friend._

No, Harry decided to stop the traitorous thought train dead in its tracks. There's no way that will happen again. He won't let it. He looked into the bag that Adam gifted him, peering at the Chocolate Frogs sitting unmoving in their plastic box. They only work their magic when they're outside. A Christmas gift.

Adam must have really missed his Harry, he realised. The gift in his hands, it was meant for the Harry he'd replaced. Not him.

Nevertheless, it was the first gift he's gotten in years. It reminded him of the 'good old days', back when the Dark Lord was just a distant memory lingering in everyone's minds.

Harry decided he'd get them gifts.

Harry was so engrossed in his newfound feelings of fondness towards his mother and twin that he'd missed the flitting figure behind them, nor the malicious glint in their eyes.

* * *

The bookstore, _Boggart's Den,_ sat precariously over a small cliff overlooking the hamlet. On the outside it looked willing to keel over at the slightest hint of a breeze. Of course, magic being what it is, there was no chance of it ever collapsing except under the weight of its own magic. Harry tamped down the nostalgia from seeing the teetering structure.

Sure, his time with Voldemort were the darkest moments of his life, but that doesn't mean he didn't enjoy learning! Of course, when he was with the Dark Lord he tended to learn more _applicable_ things, and thus his interest never wavered unlike in Hogwarts.

The inside of the Den was far more pleasing to look at. The glow of floating candle-lit lanterns illuminated the roughly cylindrical structure. The shelves were made with gnarled, unlacquered pine that gave readers a cut whenever a finger got too close, and stretched from floor to distant ceiling. Concentric circles made with rickety floorboards denoted the floors, and from the looks of it there were at least thirty. The whole structure was capped off with an enchanted ceiling depicting the sky above it, similar to Hogwarts'. Right now it was an eerily calm gray, occasionally rumbling with distant thunder.

"I'll go check out the books in the upper stacks.", Harry said as soon as they stepped over the threshold, eager to not waste any time. Unfortunately, a burly security guard accosted them soon afterwards.

"Ah-ah-ah, sorry there lad. You'll need to drop off your bag with me, can't be having our wares be tainted with sticky toffee. You can get them back later from the checkout counter.", the guard tutted. Harry shot the man a disgruntled look and passed over his bag with a huff. Adam looked torn between wanting to hold onto his bags and giving it to the guard, but in the end he too passed his over to the guard. The guard gave them a toothy sneer that revealed far too many yellowing teeth—Merlin, that breath!—before tottering over to the counter.

Harry didn't pay the guard a second more of his attention. He immediately darted over to the lift, shouldering past groups of grumpy regulars to get on. He only barely managed to get on, squeezing into the lift in between two rather sweaty gentlemen.

"Wait, Harry!"

Adam had chased after Harry, arms limber now that they weren't weighed down by four bags of sweets.

"Sorry kid, lift's full!", the lift operator called out whilst pressed into the wall by at least five other people.

The gate closed with Adam still outside, and up they went.

Harry squinted at the sign in front of the operator, trying to squash down the thought that he'd left his twin downstairs to fend for himself. This was an opportunity he couldn't waste, not when what he needed was so _close._

_**Floor 0:** _ _Entertainment/Fiction_

_**Floor 1:** _ _Entrance/Reception/Checkout_

_**Floors 2-5:** _ _Transfiguration_

_**Floors 6-10:** _ _Charms and Household Spells/Recipes_

_**Floors 11-15:** _ _Potions and Antidotes_

_**Floors 16-20:** _ _Magical Afflictions, Maladies, and Cures_

_**Floors 21-22:** _ _Arithmancy_

_**Floors 23-25:** _ _Runes of European Origin_

_**Floors 26-28:** _ _Runes of Other Origins_

_**Floors 29-30:** _ _Divination/Mythical Beasts_

_**Floors 31-35:** _ _Magical Creatures_

_**Floors 36-38:** _ _Foreign and Creature Languages_

_**Floor 39:** _ _Obscure Arts_

_**Floor 40:** _ _Hexes, Curses, Mind Arts, and Rituals_

Harry suppressed a derisive snort seeing Divination lumped with the subject that included beasts like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. He'd be the last one left in the lift, seeing as where he'd want to go was on the last floor. Although, Floor 39 seemed to be an interesting place as well.

What counted as Obscure, exactly?

He hung back in the lift as it inched up through each floor. By the time Harry had reached the 40th floor, somehow there was another person left there. He stole a glance at the person, taking in his appearance in case he ended up a threat.

_Tall, wearing a dark cloak with a hood. Waxy skin stretched over his fingers. Smells of rotting meat._

"Top floor! Last stop, Hexes, Curses, Mind Arts, and Rituals.", the lift operator called out dully.

Harry guessed that he'd seen far too many youngsters try to act cool by going to the last floor, judging from the unamused look they'd thrown at him. The cloaked figure swept out of the lift first, disappearing into the nearest aisle without a look back. Harry let out the breath he didn't know he was holding once the last of the stranger's cloak disappeared.

The man was bad news, his instincts screamed.

"Kid, are you planning on taking the lift back down?", the operator asked irritably. Harry hopped off the rickety contraption, shooting an embarrassed look at the operator as he went.

The aisles were arranged in no particular order, and stretched for seemingly miles. Occasionally, the scream of a particularly nasty enchanted book pierced through the otherwise deathly quiet ambience. The few patrons milling about near the lifts completely ignored them, most likely having interacted with a book like that already.

There was one lonely caretaker in the halls, a wiry old lady who's back was curved at 90 degrees hard at work shelving misplaced books. Looking down the dozens of aisles, Harry decided to cut his losses and hasten his leave by asking for directions. Putting on his most charming face, he asked the woman quietly, "Excuse me ma'am, but could you point me to where _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ is?"

The caretaker tittered whilst placing a book back into the bookshelf, "Why yes of co—wait, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ you say? I'm so sorry the last copy was purchased just last week. Very rare book that, hasn't had a print run in decades. Banned by the ICW and all that. A shame, really. Don't know when we'll get another copy."

Harry cursed, debating whether he ought to dig for more information. She was a blatherer. Not so much having a loose screw versus having everything intact, but rusted.

She peered at him through murky blue eyes. Not much light reflected out of them, despite the lack of melanin, "Why, haven't I seen you before?"

"No, ma'am. First time here. Look, thanks for your assistance, but I have a few other books I wish to check out first.", Harry muttered, cursing his horrible luck. A sold-out book AND a clingy "helpful" employee. He'd wasted his time.

"No, no, I definitely recognise your voice. Boy, I may be half-blind but I can tell two foals apart better than their own mother. We've met before.", the caretaker replied sharply.

"Thanks so much for your help, but I really got to go.", Harry replied frostily. His hand twitched, direly missing the familiar warmth of his holly wand. He turned his back to the woman and made to leave the aisle as quickly as possible.

"You, boy! Weren't you the one that bought that book last month?", she called out.

A jolt of electricity went through Harry. His alternate self had bought the book? It's becoming more and more clear that this dimension's Harry shared more than a few similarities with him. It was almost like the previous one had mirrored his every action.

_This couldn't have been a coincidence._

Outwardly, he gave the caretaker the best incredulous look he could muster, "I wouldn't be asking if I bought it now, would I?"

The caretaker shot him a scathing look and turned back to her books, muttering about forgetful youth and their rudeness. Harry couldn't care less, she was completely useless after all.

He went back to the lift, deciding to find Adam again. Aside from finding the _Secrets of the Darkest Art,_ there wasn't much else for him. He'd gotten first-hand instruction on much of the combat side of things, and his last foray into dark rituals didn't leave him with the best of impressions.

He supposed dark potions would be nice to learn, if only to find out what exactly had killed him. He didn't mind that it did, but it would be nice to know what exactly had gone wrong.

When he got to the lift, he groaned aloud at seeing the Floor 39 and Down arrows illuminated. He'd just missed it.

 _Well, I guess a little review wouldn't hurt,_ Harry thought as he turned back to the aisles resignedly.

After much searching, he found the only mention of the potion in _Magick Moste Evile,_ and even then it was just in passing. Apparently there was a spell that could perform a similar function of moving attributes from one thing to another. Ignoring the annoying screaming as best he could, he idly traced the wand movement with his left index finger and muttered the incantation of the first part, _Redigio,_ trying to commit the spell to memory.

Pain shot through his left arm as a dull flash of green light illuminated the aisle. He dropped the book with a gasp, clutching his forearm as it _burned_ with the feeling of a thousand fire ants crawling under the skin, biting as they marched.

The book laid there on the floor innocently, the screaming eerily absent. It looked like a normal hardcover book.

Harry would've preferred the screaming to continue. At least that was more comfortable than this silence. After all, no opened copy of _Magick Moste Evile_ had ever gone silent before. The charms were far too ancient, dating back to the Middle Ages.

"I see you've discovered my gift."

Harry hissed as the burning continued unabated, "Gift? What are you talking about—"

He froze. The voice that spoke to him. It wasn't the useless caretaker, her voice wasn't _high-pitched_ and _sibilant._ In fact, there was only one person with that unnatural tone.

_No! It can't be! I left that life behind me!_

Instincts took over as he dropped to a knee automatically, head bowed in the voice's direction. It was the cloaked figure from the lift, but why was he here?

_Just how different was this world?!_

"My Lord. I am at your service."

The sibilance seemingly rattled his rapidly chilling heart, "Are you? Our friend Marion was quite insistent that you've been lax in your duties, _Runner._ "

 _Marion?_ What would he have to do with a dingy apothecary in the middle of Knockturn? In his previous life Harry had only visited him once, and that was as a personal favour to Snape. He'd gotten the impression that Marion was a nasty, cowardly bloke that prostrated himself to anyone with a modicum of authority.

"I...am not sure what you are referring to, my Lord."

He hated how submissive he sounded.

The cloaked figure replied coldly, "You've _played_ me, Potter. I do not take insubordination well, even if you are currently indispensable."

First his arm burned _._

Then, his entire body _blazed._ Agonised, Harry fell on the floor, spasms rocking his body as he cried out in pain. Knives stabbed just under the skin as his nails dug deep into his skin, trying to reach the source of the pain. Not that there was any, for the Cruciatus leaves no physical marker in that sense.

"A little taste of what's to come if you fail me again."

Everything hurt. The fire ants crawling under his skin have become ravaging centipedes.

"I hope your reunion with the Potters is merely a part of the plan to retrieve what's mine, Potter, or the _Cruciatus_ will be the least of your worries. You have 48 hours. Bring what I want."

He swept towards the lift, cloak fluttering behind him.

The figure paused as he neared the end of the aisle and tauntingly mused, "Perhaps I should give little Adam a parting gift as well."

A book next to the figure exploded in a kaleidoscope of red light. The figure didn't even flinch, even as Harry's shaking arm pointed at him. A faint glow emanated through his coat.

"You can cast despite the Cruciatus?", the figure hissed. He had the gall to sound _impressed_.

The Cruciatus didn't let up until the lift finally took the figure downstairs.

Once the curse was finally over Harry shakily stood up, leaning against the shelf. The familiar din of the _Muffliato_ spell filled his ears, signifying the lack of witnesses. The Dark Lord was nothing if not thorough. He kicked the book that started it all, glaring at it as he shakily staggered his way to the lift.

He had to protect Adam, stop the Dark Lord from getting to him.

His bottlecap necklace hummed, vibrating faintly. Harry couldn't bring himself to care about that though, considering the excruciating migraine threatening to split his skull open. Black spots flickered at the corners of his vision.

"Do come again!", the caretaker called out at another patron. Just the sound of her voice was like sandpaper against his sanity.

The lift couldn't come fast enough. Once it arrived he promptly collapsed on the floor and rested his pounding head against the corner, ignoring the indignant squawk from the operator. One floor down, people started filing into the lift.

"—there's no way Harry would be on the top floor!"

"We've been through all 39 other floors Adam, there's no other possible place— _HARRY?!_ "

He looked up to see three figures dash towards him.

_Oh, James is back._

Exhaustion finally overtook him as he fell unconscious into awaiting arms.

* * *

"— _ervate"_

He shot up with a gasp.

"Easy there, Mr. Potter. Your body is suffering from extended exposure to the Cruciatus curse.", a soothing voice whispered softly into his ear.

He took a look around. The musty atmosphere from the bookstore was replaced with sterility. All life seemed to have been sapped from the air here, and whoever had done it seemingly forgot to put anything back. Two rows of beds, opposite to each other, lined the room. Some had completely uninspired off-white curtains drawn. The blandness stretched to encompass the furnishings, from the flattest chairs ever to the extra-firm mattress he laid on. In front of him was the outline of a person, although his vision refused to provide any further clues.

He slid on his glasses and the fuzzy outline turned into a matronly witch sporting a smile and clad in a standard green Healer's outfit, "I'm Healer Wilkes, St. Mungo's. How are you feeling right now?"

Harry immediately disliked the Healer. Whilst her portly appearance and congenial smile were undoubtedly meant to soothe, Harry instead bristled at it. The smile that screamed of someone spending too much time in front of a mirror, the rotundness of a widow that spent their entire life baking brownies, the way she hovered over him like a worried hen. It was all fake.

"Fine. May I go?", Harry asked, placing an extra emphasis on the word 'go'.

Healer Wilkes replied with a sickly sweet voice that reminded Harry of a certain pink toad, "You were Cruciated for several minutes. Whilst I appreciate your desire to get back to normalcy, you need to be taken care of. I can't just let you _go._ "

"Well, as you can see I'm all better. What else is there to do?"

The witch raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow, "Why, a mental screening of course. The Cruciatus is as much a physiological torture as it is a mental one, we need to make sure your mental status is fit to return to society."

There it is. A 'mental screening', she said. Harry had no intention of letting some stranger try to dissect his mind, not when there's endless ways he can self-incriminate without him even knowing he did. She'll just have to settle with an empty hand to give back to her master. He waited for a bit, goading her with his silence to convey his non-cooperation. From the way her smile strained at the ends, she was steadily finding it hard to keep up the farce as time passed.

Good. Let her facade fall, then Harry would finally see her true colours. After a tense lull in conversation, with the Healer's smile still plastered on her insufferable face, Harry decided a push was in order.

"Well, get on with it. I haven't all day, Healer Wilkes."

He always did love to play with people. Bellatrix in particular hated him, and compared to her this 'Healer' was nothing.

Wilkes' lips thinned.

"Very well. Let's start off simple, are you feeling any uncontrollable urges?"

"No ma'am."

She seemed put out by the succinct answer, "Have you felt any since you woke up?"

"Aside from a brief wish to redecorate this room, no."

The Healer made a show of making a checkmark in her clipboard. Harry couldn't help but notice the quill didn't have any ink.

"Any sudden swings in mood or behaviour?"

"I believe you would be able to answer that better than I could, Healer Wilkes. I've only been awake for as long as you've been here."

Wilkes shot him an unfriendly look, putting down her clipboard. As he suspected, it was completely blank. She leaned in, her smile all but gone as her features turned downright haughty. Perfect pearly white teeth shone through the small parting of her lips.

"Well, you're an observant child, aren't you?"

Harry grinned, "Guilty."

"Then let's get down to the important bits, shall we? What were you doing on the 40th Floor of the Boggart's Den?"

_Given up so easily?_

"I thought it was where the loo was. Most places tend to place the loo in the most inconvenient locations."

Harry derived no small amount of pleasure from the way the 'Healer' spluttered.

"Th-that's _hogwash!_ Are you to make me think I'd believe that story?!"

"Well, as much as I'll believe that an interrogation is part of a standard Healer's guideline. Look, let's not waste each other's time. I've a curse to recover from as you said earlier, and I'd really like to rest.", Harry replied with a sour look.

Wilkes opened her mouth to retort when an irritated voice came up from an adjacent bed, "Oi! People are trying to sleep here! Sod off and get me a fresh blanket, this one's soiled!"

The Healer's reaction was comical with the way her mouth flapped uselessly, failing to even begin formulating any sort of response. With a huff she stood up and stormed out of the fumbling stride to the door told Harry all he needed to know; that wasn't a real Healer. Her gait matched that of a thinner person, not a portly matron.

He leaned back in his bed with a confident smirk.

Said smirk fell off once a blur of raven hair zoomed through the hospital wing and collided into Harry, "Harry!"

Breathing suddenly became optional as he was engulfed in a hug from his twin, bags of candy falling on the floor without care.

"I was so worried when I saw you passed out on that lift!"

"Adam...a-air!"

Adam recoiled back, although his hands never left Harry's. Adam's hand felt like sandpaper with rough calluses covering everything from the fingerpads to his wrist. Despite their roughness against his palm, however, they felt warm and comforting against his clammy fingers. Like they were being enveloped by the heat of a fireplace.

Harry asked breathlessly, "Where's mum and dad? Shouldn't they be watching you and making sure that you don't go assaulting patients?"

Adam's hazel eyes darted to the side as he responded evasively, "Oh...they're around. Might be on the next lift up."

"...you gave them the slip."

Adam had the audacity to look abashed as he replied with a higher-than-normal pitch, "H-hey! I just wanted to make sure you were okay! You just went and disappeared for an hour and then the next time I saw you, you looked like death came over you!"

"Relax, Adam, before you end up in the bed next to me for hyperventilating.", Harry replied wryly.

Adam took a deep breath and continued, this time with a tinge of desperation seeping into his voice, "I'm just worried for you, I-I just thought I lost you again."

Feeling like a stone just dropped in his stomach, Harry found himself fumbling to reply to the distraught boy in front of him. Truthfully, he wished the 'Healer' was back right now, at least he'd know how to act in an interrogation. This was more painful than any nail extrication he'd bore witness to.

He couldn't even give a truthful response. The previous Harry, with his memories, were all gone. He lacked the experiences of his past self's interactions with Adam, and thus had nothing to go on. He was basically comforting a stranger. A stranger that he found himself sorely wanting to connect with, yes, but a stranger nonetheless.

No, Adam wasn't the stranger. He was. Harry grew more acutely aware of that fact every time Adam's doe-like hazel eyes glanced at him, looking like they were _hoping_ for something. Some sort of sign from him that he can't give.

"Adam, I need to be honest with you about something."

Adam perked up, his glistening hazel eyes somewhere between wishful and dread. Harry took a deep breath and pushed down the small voice in his head that screamed this was a bad idea.

"Look, I don't remember you at all, at least not since I came back two days ago. Whatever experiences we've had in the past...I don't recall a single one of them. For all I know, you didn't exist."

Harry watched Adam intently, looking for any sign of an imminent breakdown. Instead, what he saw was complete resignation on Adam's face. It was as if he had suspected it all along. His hand never let go of Harry's though, if anything his grip tightened even further.

He continued softly, "So...I don't know what you expect from me, but I can't meet them— "

"I know. I don't care."

Harry stopped.

Adam didn't let go of his hand as he replied with conviction, "You have a caustic sense of humour, you have a tendency to leave people behind, and you drive Dad up the wall."

Harry snorted uncouthly at the end. Adam quirked a grin as he continued,

"However you care about me, and you like treacle tart. No one that likes treacle tarts can be a _bad_ person."

He held up their clasped hands in a show of solidarity with Harry. The rough texture of Adam's palms felt akin to an old scratchy blanket that one might own since childhood, an imperfect possession that would always be there as the child lived their life of regrets and shattered dreams.

Trying to ignore the feeling of earnest _comfort_ that Adam exuded, Harry's guilt and persistently flagging self-doubt forced him to question Adam, "And what if I am?"

"A bad person?"

Harry hesitantly nodded. He hated how weak and vulnerable he felt, but something about Adam just made him feel like he wanted to spill everything right now in front of him. It felt _right_ to tell him everything.

Adam made a show out of looking pensive, although his mirthful grin gave away his flippant attitude, "You're my brother, how bad can you really be?"

When Harry didn't answer and turned his eyes down, Adam shook his head and tugged on his hand to get his attention again, "Stop looking so worried. You'll get lines on your face."

"I'm not worried, just...concerned about whatever might come back to haunt us."

Adam replied softly, "That's still worrying. Don't, if anything does come we can face it together. I'll help you clean up whatever mess you made."

 _Like you can face down the Dark Lord,_ thought Harry sardonically. No, he couldn't let Adam shoulder even a small part of this responsibility, he already had a large crosshair on himself just by virtue of being the Boy-Who-Lived. If the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him he'd fall immediately. Harry at least had a horcrux to keep him around.

Suddenly Adam spoke up, "Oh! Speaking of messes being left, here's the bag of candy I gave you earlier!"

Harry had a sneaking suspicion he gave him a different bag, considering how Adam was holding the largest one. Adam caught the suspicious look and nervously replied, "Ah, I might have...repackaged it into another bag?"

"And filled it up with boxed treacle tarts?"

Nevertheless, Harry accepted the gift. Adam brightened when Harry reached into his bag and fished out a tart, doing the same with a licorice wand from his bag. Harry took the tiny tart out of the packaging, studying the ridges of the treat with melancholy.

"I forgot to buy you a present."

Adam paused midway through his candy to wave at Harry off-handishly, "Don't worry about it, my gift was sort of late anyways."

"But—"

Adam laughed light-heartedly, "You've already outdone any gift I could have possibly thought of."

Their hands never parted, not even when Lily finally found them.

* * *

James impatiently paced back and forth on the first floor lobby. Sirius slouched back against his chair, reading a Muggle fashion magazine whilst occasionally snickering. However, to people that truly knew him they would've seen the way his chuckles never seemed to resonate, how his smile didn't quite reach his ears. He was distracted, quite possibly by his recent conversation with James and Lily.

The lift dinged, and both men stopped to look up. Healer Wilkes stepped out of the lift with a frazzled look on her face, looking around and immediately strode over angrily to James once she spotted him.

"You! Was that your sick idea for some sort of test?!", Wilkes shouted.

James winced at the loud voice, "Woah, woah, _Wilkes_ , what exactly are you on about?"

Wilkes stomped her foot in frustration, "You know exactly what I'm on about! If you wanted me off your case, just say so! I'll find another preceptor! You don't have to send me on an impossible goose chase!"

"Impossib—wait, what did Harry tell you?"

Wilkes' hair started turning pink with her ire mounting, "Nothing! But I guess that's what you expected, isn't it?"

She whirled her head to stare down Sirius who looked torn between reprimanding the two, "And you! You knew!"

Sirius' gaze firmly fixated on his fellow Marauders' as he nodded, "Not willingly. Tonks, could you step out for a moment?"

Wilkes, now revealed as Tonks, let out a huff as she stormed out of the lobby.

James was immediately blindsided by a punch that sent him sprawling to the floor. He whipped out his wand, a _Stupefy_ on the tip of his tongue when he identified his attacker.

"PADFOOT! What the blaz—"

Sirius interrupted with an animalistic growl, "Shut it. You've—you've been off, Prongs! I'm the one that's meant to be impulsive!"

James flinched, "I had to be sure—"

"Sure of what?! He's your son, my _godson_! Since when have you ever listened to Moody?!"

Since just this morning. Alastor had suggested it when he called in a favour. The way the eccentric Auror saw it, an interrogation by Tonks would have killed two birds with one stone: introduced her to a facet of Auror duty, and allowed James to figure his son out. And from Tonks' reaction, it had yielded _something._

"Tonks said he didn't answer anything. That all but confirms my suspicions, there hasn't been a reported case of the Cruciatus in years! What's the chances of the first one being a random attack on my estranged son?"

"But how can you just assume it's _his_ fault?!"

James had no immediate response to that. He knew his case wouldn't hold in their job. This crime scene had no smoking wand, no witnesses, but there was a ton of damage. All the damage had _his_ handiwork all over it. Couldn't his old friend see the signs?!

Sirius strode over to the lift and shot him a look of utter disappointment, "If I had known you wanted my cousin for this, I'd have never agreed. James, ever since Pettigrew died—"

"Don't mention his name!"

Sirius frowned, grey eyes seemingly boring into James' soul like they always did, "You've changed. And not for the better."

Those parting words gnawed on him. Was all this just due to the betrayal of their former best friend? James wasn't Merlin or some omnipotent being, he couldn't even begin to tell.

But Sirius...he was the closest to one. At least when it came to people, he'd see through them. He'd seen through Severus (at least initially), through Moony. He'd always known. Prong's world suddenly got a little less clear.


	6. Caduceus

Harry's discharge went smoothly, all things considered. Dad wore a guarded expression the entire time, especially when the Aurors showed up to take a statement from him. At first Adam believed Dad was worried for Harry. However, the way he hovered hawkishly over his twin when he was giving his testimony. His dad wasn't worried _for_ Harry, he was worried _about_ Harry.

Harry asked for it, really. Not to mention that Adam gave more information than Harry's interview did. The Auror that questioned Harry left with only a few lines written down.

His Dad wasn't the type to let go of things. Ever since Wormtail gave up their home's location, he found it hard to trust anyone. In fact, it took him years in order to trust anyone outside of Lily (and Adam and Harry, he supposed, but it's sort of hard for someone that can't walk to betray him). Uncles Padfoot and Moony coaxed him for months before he even began to listen to either of them again.

"—no, absolutely not! I would be derelict in my duty if I let you continue this here! Get out! OUT!"

The Auror that accompanied Sirius earlier glared at the Healer (who looked absolutely nothing like the "healer" from before) and said to Harry curtly, "We'll continue this downstairs."

His gaze swept over the rest of the family, pausing over each person's head dramatically for a few seconds as if to emphasize what he said next, "I'll also be taking statements from everyone else here afterwards. In fact, Healer Warren I believe you said this patient will be discharged shortly?"

"Yes but I can hardly just stand here—"

"Perfect. Mr and Mrs. Potter, I'll be waiting by the cafe downstairs. We'll have our chat there over tea, my treat."

The Healer's stony expression followed the stiff Auror the entire way to the lift door, where he then hung around staring creepily at them all. She fiercely flicked her wand to close the curtains as she turned to Harry.

"Now dear, I hope you'll take it easy afterwards. Goodness knows the kind of monster that would attack a sweet child like you."

Judging from his strained smile, Harry clearly didn't find the Healer's tittering endearing. It only got worse when the Healer gave the discharge instructions with a babyingtone, even lowering herself down to cooing. The minutes noticeably ticked by for Adam, even their parents started shifting uncontrollably as the Healer explained everything in excruciating detail.

"—I'll write a prescription for some Calming Draughts and Dreamless Sleep Potions. Make sure you only drink them sparingly, especially the latter one. Don't want to develop an addiction and come back here, do we Mr. Potter?"

 _Merlin,_ that patronising wink at the end hurt.

"Crystal, madame. Thank you for taking the time to explain _everything_ to me in such detail.", Harry replied drily.

There's Harry's caustic sarcasm.

"Why, such a polite young man too!"

Eventually she finally decided she spoke for long enough. Handing over the prescription on a piece of parchment to Lily she then bustled out of the room, completely ignorant of the collective glowers from the Potter family.

Suddenly, a sound. A choked sound. The bed shook. Adam's head pivoted in alarm, looking at the only other person sitting on the bed.

Harry wasn't getting symptoms. He was _laughing._ Apparently Dad finally decided then to grace Harry with his words again.

"What are you laughing at?"

It was _strange._ The laughter didn't sound like it came from the chest, it came solely from the throat.

Shallow.

"She reminded me of someone."

From the tone of his voice, the reminder stung like an open wound. Lily looked on worriedly.

"Harry, if something is bothering you we can schedule a meeting with the Mind Healer department whilst we're here.", she offered.

Nodding at his Mum's words, Adam tacked on, "I'll come with you if you need—"

"I'll get over it", Harry interrupted with a tone of finality, head turned slightly sideways to stare at the adjacent (empty) bed, "Let's just deal with the Auror, okay? The nice man promised tea, after all."

 _But you don't drink tea,_ was what Adam wanted to blurt out. He kept shut.

They kept silent even as they arrived at the lift. Silence was usually golden, but not now. Adam wanted Harry to open up.

Adam idly wondered if he'd be down for a Quidditch game. Playing in the snow was so much _fun_! Harry used to be a bloody good Seeker after all, and wasn't half bad at Chasing either. They just needed enough warming charms to roast a hippogriff.

The lift door opened.

"Hi Ada—is that your twin?!"

Adam could recognise that soft boyish tone from yards away, "Neville!"

The pudgy boy stood in the corner of the lift holding a bag of some sweet from the hospital cafeteria. Probably a five-pack of Chocolate Frogs, although the reason escaped him. Neville never ordered them when they went out together.

"Yeah, it's Harry!"

"Blimey, you weren't kidding when you said he looks like a green-eyed version of you.", Neville said in wonder, squinting his eyes.

Adam laughed lightheartedly, looking over to his twin in order to introduce his friend when he caught a _look_ in Harry's eyes. Or maybe it was just a trick of the dim lift lantern.

After all, how could you be angry with someone you've never met? Neville certainly didn't look like he recognised him. Harry stuck his hand out, all remnants of light-induced facial shifts absent from his face.

"Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you."

Smooth, almost like a stuck up aristocrat. Harry _never_ spoke that smoothly. He was polite, but he was always more of a Fred and George kind of politeness. That was a politician's or Malfoy's kind of greeting.

Well, at least the kind of greeting Lucius gave whenever he and Dad crossed paths. _Merlin_ that smile oozed.

Neville noticed. Beauty about self-conscious people, they read others like an open book.

"Did we meet somewhere before? I-I'm sorry if I offended you in any way—"

Harry interrupted Neville's apology quickly, "No offense taken, I'm still a bit peaky from the hospital visit. You seem like a brilliant guy, I can't imagine why I'd ever be offended at you."

His crafted tone said otherwise.

The elevator chimed to signal a landing and a woman's voice drolled through the speaker, "Fourth Floor, Janus Thickey Ward."

Taking its cue, the elevator abruptly halted its descent and nearly sent everyone to the floor. Neville didn't even flinch.

Lily suddenly spoke up, "Hey Adam, why don't you and Harry keep Neville company while your father and I fill this prescription?"

"Wha—"

"We'll be glad to!", Adam interrupted, placing a firm grip on Harry's arm. He did his best to ignore the fierce look Harry was giving him as he dragged them out of the lift after Neville.

Who, empathetic as he is, offered a grim smile to recognise Harry's plight. He didn't stop though.

"Harry doesn't have to come if he doesn't want to. This isn't most people's idea of a good Christmas vacation."

Adam scoffed, "Like we can go back to having a regular vacation after this. He got Cruciated in a bloody bookstore!"

Neville did stop at that and looked back at the glamoured twin with horror, "You got Cruciated?!"

It was then that Adam noticed Harry never actually looked at Neville directly. Right now he stared at the wall behind him.

Harry grunted. Neville nodded solemnly.

Adam suddenly got the feeling that he was missing something. Again, he didn't say anything. Neville had always been cagey when it came to his parents, and asking Harry right now...

If Neville got cagey, Harry was Azkaban. No one got out, and everything festered within. That was one thing that even this 'amnesia' and two years didn't change. Getting him to admit his true feelings was almost impossible.

"Hi Mum."

The soft vulnerable voice snapped Adam back to the present. A thin, relatively short woman with equally short hair laid on the bed, reading the newspaper. The date was last week's.

Mrs. Longbottom looked up from her reading, revealing a gaunt face with empty brown eyes. She shared a similar facial structure with Neville, but it was so hard to tell with how skinny she was.

She held her fist out, fingers faced down. Neville perked up and went over with a speed Adam's never seen in him before and outstretched his hand. _Something_ fell from her fist into his awaiting palms, which he accepted with an eager thanks. He pocketed it with reverence and stood back up.

Never once did Mrs. Longbottom look at her son.

"My parents...they were victims of the Cruciatus too. Death Eaters got to them on the same night that You-Know-Who attacked your house.", Neville revealed, voice sounding pained but rehearsed.

"Do they…?", Adam trailed off, words becoming hard to express.

Neville shook his head, "They know I'm someone they knew, but nothing beyond that."

Harry stayed silent. Neville continued after a brief pause, "I'm sorry you guys have to see this. I'll take you guys back before I—"

"Would you rather they be dead?", Harry suddenly asked.

"Harry! I apologise Neville, you don't have to answer that!", Adam exclaimed, swatting his brother on the arm.

Neville looked equal parts shocked and incredulous but that quickly passed as he took a deep breath and replied, "No, it's okay. I've been wondering about this myself."

Adam opened his mouth to protest when Neville held up his hand, eyes boring into Harry's equally intense gaze.

"They—my parents spend their entire lives in a long term palliative care ward. They used to be Aurors, but now they won't ever hold a job again. Their previous accomplishments mean nothing in this building. My granny and I only register as people they were acquainted with to them, and even then they don't speak much beyond one or two words."

Neville's eyes glistened but he forged onwards regardless, "They cannot form any new memories according to the healers, their minds are too far gone for that. So everything we do now, they won't remember in a few moments. They can't."

"But it's still better than them being _dead_ , isn't it?", Harry asked relentlessly. Neville's gaze became dull, despite the tears threatening to slip out.

"I...they're stuck right now. They're not _living,_ but at the same time they're not _gone._ I suppose if I were them...I'd wish I was dead."

The tears did fall out by now. Harry's face turned stony. Not a single up or downturn in his mouth to show what he really felt.

"But I guess my granny and I are selfish. We don't want them to die. Keeping them here might be cruel but, well, they're what we have left. They're in limbo because we want them to be.", Neville finished softly.

Harry nodded slowly in understanding.

Then he bolted straight for the lift.

Adam blinked, threw Neville an apologetic look before he ran after him.

* * *

Harry never anticipated meeting Neville today. Sure, he remembered Alice and Frank Longbottom were in the same hospital as him, but he didn't expect to actually cross paths with their son in the bloody _lift._ And certainly he never expected to have his entire moral code get called into question and then shattered by a ten year old boy.

Never mind that said ten year old boy was the one that came within spitting distance of saving him in his world. Maybe that's why it hurts.

"Harry, wait up!"

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he looked back to see a mop of black hair dash over to him.

"What's gotten into—"

"Do you think Neville's right?"

The words tumbled straight out of Harry's mouth without ever going into his brain. He dearly wanted to claw those words back.

"...yes."

The deep breath wasn't enough. He still felt like drowning.

"So you'd rather be dead, given the choice?"

"I'd rather be."

Normally Harry liked bluntness, but this was too much.

"Why?"

"Because there's no point in living. It'll be cruel to our parents, to you, and everyone I care about."

"You don't think it's a mercy then."

"Harry, what brought this on?", Adam asked suddenly. Harry fell quiet. He couldn't exactly ask Adam what he really wanted to, 'If, hypothetically, a Death Eater only tortured people and never killed them, would they be considered redeemable?'

Especially when the answer was pretty much said.

Harry settled for a generic reply, "Just being philosophical. Staring at bland wallpaper does that to me sometimes."

"I'll make sure to ask Mum to repaint our house then, because your philosophical trips are terrible."

The lift chimed. Just before the doors opened, Adam said quietly, "About your question, I hope I never encounter someone that actually thinks that. They must be the most selfish person in the world."

"Ah."

Harry sucked on the inside of his cheek, lightly chewing on the flesh of his cheek.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Death Eaters were worlds apart from the DA. For starters, he never expected Voldemort to be so hands-on. After all, Lucius snuck in the Diary into Ginny's cauldron without being ordered to do so. Evidently that's not how things were meant to happen. He had taken too many liberties with that, and now his position on the long table matched that. Disgraced, even within his own house._

_However, when done well Voldemort loved his men to be proactive. Harry's scar practically exploded in pain when he told Voldemort the names of all the DA and Order of the Phoenix members. That was how he got his trust, and quickly managed to worm his way into the inner circle. It had to be done, or else everyone at the Ministry that day would have been hunted down._

_After all, Voldemort promised to spare any that he named from death, given that they come quietly. In a world like this, that was the best that Harry could hope for. Not another Sirius._

_It also allowed him to listen in to these crucial meetings between Voldemort and his Ministry goons. It kept him up to date._

" _We've found another Mudblood hideout just south of Devonshire. They're using it to shuttle their kind over the Channel.", Yaxley reported._

_Voldemort nodded thoughtfully, not really listening to the Ministry mole. Nagini stayed curled next to the fireplace._

_Yaxley took the silence as a cue to continue, "We think that it's a Portkey relay station that they're using. Two way Portkeys, that exchange with another somewhere in Belgium to prevent running out._

_We also have reason to believe that the station is run by a mudblood named Dean Thomas."_

_They found Dean?!_

_Voldemort's gaze sharpened. His cold gaze captured Yaxley's who shuddered under the scrutiny of his Lord's watch, "Dean, you say? Any relation to the boy who was part of Potter's group?"_

" _One and the same, m'Lord. He's been sighted entering and exiting the building at regular intervals.", Yaxley replied, barely able to keep a level voice. He wasn't used to having Voldemort's full attention._

" _Mm…this sounds like an opportunity then. Bellatrix, you'll take the lead on this operation. Take as many Snatchers as you desire after this meeting—"_

_Bellatrix, who leaned so far over the table that she no longer contacted her seat in order to watch her Lord speak, replied greedily, "Yes, m'Lord!"_

_Bony fingers circling the lip of his goblet, he said coldly, "I was not finished, Bellatrix. Potter, you've been practicing the Curse recently. Put it to the test."_

_Harry raised his wand, only too happy to curse the witch that always treated him as lesser, "_ Crucio."

_Bellatrix fell onto the table, screaming. Maybe once he would have cared about the anguished cries, but Bellatrix was the last person he'd care about. That made it so much easier._

_Watching her dance on the table, it felt good. She deserved it._

" _I see you've taken to this curse.", Lucius muttered, watching the witch slide off the table whilst still twitching._

_Why wouldn't he? It doesn't kill._

" _Potter, let up.", Voldemort suddenly spoke. He sounded gleeful. Like a kid that got away with a cookie._

_Bellatrix stopped screaming almost immediately, although twitches still went through her body even as she slumped into her chair. Her bloodshot eyes glared at Harry as she groveled her thanks to Voldemort._

" _Get up, Bellatrix. This is unbecoming of you."_

_Voldemort turned his gaze to Harry, "You've shown a proclivity for the Cruciatus unlike any other. Not even Bellatrix managed to master it in such a short time. Whatever the reason, I expect that you carry this forward on this mission."_

_Bellatrix started, a trace of indignance seeping into her frayed voice, "M—my Lord? This mission—"_

" _I do not repeat myself, Bellatrix. Potter will be following you on this mission to ensure that our agreement stays true. Lucius, I expect you to prepare a cell for a new guest's arrival by tonight."_

* * *

 _Harry stepped over the fallen defender with a grimace. A Snatcher's_ Diffindo _bisected her torso, causing blood to pool from both ends readily. Her chestnut eyes long since glazed over, not a flicker of life left. The building, an old Welsh-style stone hut, had caved in from the barrage of hexes and curses. The air was dusty and smelled of soot and iron._

" _G-geroff me! Get your bloody hands off me!"_

_Dragged by his hair, matted down by blood and grime, was Dean. A Snatcher got him, wand held at ready in case he dashed._

" _Calm yourself, Dean!"_

_So he did. Very quick. Not even the sound of breathing came from his bloodied lips._

" _Harry. You showed your face."_

_Dean looked awful as he stared back. His face grew welts, like his face was used as a troll's training log. Lacerations crisscrossed every limb. Harry traced a particularly bad one that went up his neck alarmedly._

" _Lestrange! Why is Dean like this?!"_

 _She snorted, any trace of civility gone, "He's trying to hide the locations of the other bases. Potter, our Lord never said that your little_ agreement _required mudbloods be returned unharmed—"_

" _Unhand him.", Harry gritted out, wand palmed. The dark-haired witch sniffed in annoyance and beckoned. The Snatcher launched the boy to the floor with a dull thud. Harry lifted the boy back up and onto his knee, ignoring the awful stench clinging to his robes and pointed his wand at the large neck wound._

"Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur…"

_Blood leaked out for the last time as crusty skin stitched back together in a meshwork pattern, leaving the skin almost looking normal. It might have been a shade paler, but better than—_

_Harry saw stars. Then the pain came, exploding from his cheek. Another dull thud came soon afterwards as Dean was thrown across the floor and impacted debris._

_Anger reared its ugly head._

" _Ye bastard! Filthy Mudblood!", a Snatcher jeered. Dean curled up in pain, wet coughs expelling dust and blood. A small part of Harry sneered._

" _I...might be a Mudblood, but at least I've got dignity!"_

_Harry, ignoring the throbbing, slowly went over to Dean with his feet dragging on the floor._

_Anger hissed, demanding retribution, it's slitted yellow eyes gleaming with bloodlust. It found its prey._

" _Why'd you punch me? I was trying to heal you!"_

_Another cough, one that came deep from within._

" _You—you think that healing a few cuts will absolve you? Harry—no,_ Potter, _you've done enough. No. More, much more than enough."_

" _Hah, he's gone delirious!", the same Snatcher laughed wickedly. Bellatrix stood off to the side, for once not speaking although her expression would fit someone watching the telly._

" _I wish. Potter, you are a_ fiend. _"_

_Anger screamed, fangs dripping with venom._

_Harry quickly caught on._

" _I was, and still am, trying to save you all! You don't think I suffered too?!", Harry cried._

_Dean's mouth split into a wide smile. It looked like it shouldn't. Gummy and toothless. Blood dripping._

_Mixing with the dirt, turning it into mud._

" _I regret many things. I—"_

" _Are you going to say you regret knowing me?! Thanks, because frankly after that punch, I'm starting to think the feeling's mutual!"_

_He closed his mouth, to Harry's secret relief, and hung his head._

" _No...then I wouldn't have known. How to live, how to help others be free."_

 _The Snatcher_ giggled.

" _Harry, I don't regret meeting you. I regret expecting you to be anything but human."_

" _He's—he's lost it, he actually lost it! Potter broke him!", the Snatcher laughed._

 _Harry ignored the Snatcher's comments and asked, "So then what did you expect me to be then? I've sacrificed everything! I would've thought you lot would've been happy to at least be_ alive!"

_Dean shook his head, amusement rolling off of him despite the circumstances. It appears that he no longer heard him, "You're only human! That's great for you! Now you get to be redeemed,_

_sent to hell just like the rest of you bloody—"_

_Anger struck at the neck of its prey, a tiny defenceless mouse. He snapped._

"Crucio!"

_So easy._

_Harry didn't stop, even when Dean stopped screaming and his eyes turned vacant. Once he finally let go of the curse, he picked up Dean again,_

" _If I was a Death Eater, you'd be DEAD!"_

_No reply. Not even a flicker of life. Harry's hand flew to Dean's mouth, and breathed a sigh of relief as air tickled his palm._

_Bellatrix decided to finally make her presence known. She cackled, "My, Potter! I see what the Dark Lord sees in you now. You've taken the Curse farther than even I ever did!"_

" _And yet he's still alive, unlike most of your victims!", Harry shouted, keeping his hand on Dean's face._

_Bellatrix's cackle never stopped as she left the wrecked cottage, "At least I can rest easy. You're even more twisted than I am!"_

_Dean was eventually transferred to the Janus Thickey Ward._

* * *

Was death really the worst thing? Harry wasn't scared of death, far from it. However, he WAS scared of losing people. Surely keeping people alive, even if against their will, was better for everyone? Mental damage might be one day fixed, physical mutilation could be given prosthetics, be it magical or not.

Magic could solve almost anything! Merlin, _Pettigrew_ got a fully functional hand!

Why does everyone think it's wrong then? This was all Longbottom's fault! Even in another world, without being on opposite sides, he manages to screw with Harry's head. He needed an outlet.

The lift dinged, door opening to reveal an impatient Auror.

"Harry Potter, you've taken quite some time to get down here. Come, let us sit in that corner over there."

A devilish grin spread over Harry's face. He'd just found one.

The Auror left the family with a huff. Despite a renewed vigour on the Auror's part Harry made sure he couldn't weedle out any information from him. Harry wanted the Dark Lord caught, sure, but the Aurors had decades to do that when he was still active. They had no chance now. A wraith hopping between bodies is nigh uncatchable.

Even if the Aurors could, he didn't know the extent to which his past self was involved with the Dark Lord. Enough to have a wand infused into his left arm, at least, which means any information given might end up coming back to haunt him.

And that was just the tip of what's bothering him. No, not the tip. This was like a pebble. It wasn't related to the precipice he stood over.

Adam came back from the corner table that the interviews were held in with a bemused grin, "You really did a number on him, Harry. Bloke spent half the interview comparing our responses."

Perhaps that's the answer then. If the problem was the precipice, why bother with the small things?

"Maybe he shouldn't have asked such inane questions then.", he sniped back, "Come on, let's get out of this hospital."

Was he wrong?

"Hey Mum, where are we going now?", Adam asked.

"Not back to Blackpool, that's for certain. Maybe we can go back another time, I want to see if that fortune teller is actually a real Seer."

He might be.

"Home, let's go home.", James' deep voice barged it's way into their conversation, "Padfoot snuck us a Portkey when he got here."

Was he being selfish?

"Harry, grab on! Do you want to be left behind?", Adam called out.

Maybe he was. All he knew was, he still is.

The world started spinning. Sending them through limbo before landing them home.

Once home he collapsed onto his bed in a heap. Even Quidditch wouldn't keep him awake now.

* * *

Little white flakes danced around the glass inside the snowglobe, settling around the bottom. It covered the little peoples' feet in around a centimeter of 'snow', causing them to start up a snowball fight.

Luna giggled.

"I'm sorry, we tried everything. Luna was cured because her young body fought off the parasite. Pandora...she never had the best immune system."

Xenophilius wailed. He held onto the frail hand of his wife, eyes shining with tears.

"Sir, perhaps it would be prudent to start thinking about future plans—"

Xenophilius whipped around, glaring at the Healer, "What future plans?! My wife is _dying_!"

"You have a daughter—"

"I was never the kid raiser! Pandora was!", Xenophilius roared. Luna hummed, shaking the snowglobe again to reset the little figures.

They truly looked so carefree in their little scarves. One of them glared up at Luna, rubbing his head that impacted the glass a moment before.

"Then perhaps it's time to start thinking of ways to raise her. There's a program sign up sheet down in the lobby if you don't know anyone to assist you.", the Healer offered lamely.

Xenophilius shot her a wet glare but stayed silent. Words failed him. Luna felt sorry for her father.

So, she spoke.

"Daddy, don't worry. She'll be visiting the most magnificent train station ever! She'll meet the most wonderful woman ever, someone called Fate, and then she'll board the train to the great beyond!"

Xenophilius choked, "Of all the ruddy things she picked up from Pandora, it had to be the _whimsy._ "

He couldn't even look at her.

So, she stared at him.

"No, not whimsy Daddy! She'll be on a great adventure! She'll love it, there will be Crumple-Horned Snorkacks frolicking everywhere, not just stuck on some icey frontier! Not only that, but granny will keep her company! I'm sure of it!"

When her father didn't respond at all the Healer bemusedly did, "Well you're an imaginative little girl. Are you not scared of death at all?"

Luna looked at the Healer as if she grew a second head. Like a Caduceus!

"Oh, I am! But I'll make sure that I won't be!", she said cheerfully.

The Healer chuckled as if Luna told a particularly funny joke.

Luna's gaze sharpened as she looked at her mother's unconscious form. She hadn't.

She really would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking about rewriting the entire first chapter, and possibly collating all these flashbacks into one prequel. Let me know what you guys think!


	7. Footsteps of a Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Receiving a terrible wakeup call from Neville and Adam, Harry struggles to trudge onwards. Unsure of himself, he goes forward with what little he’s sure of: stopping the Dark Lord. Sadly, Fate has never really been on his side, and he comes out of it worse for wear.

They buried her mother the next day. She went under looking calm as she always did, with a soft smile of someone that has never lived a life of regret.

The funeral was identical to last time's, the same attendees and the same speeches, but her neck was missing a very important item. Not important to her, for she was dead, but to Luna. And whilst Luna treated life like a puzzle, that didn't mean she made a habit of losing her pieces.

Her mother's funeral was a damp and dreary affair. Her study was very much the same. The Lovegoods lived in a medieval tower after all, and the January night made stone a cold, wet mistress. However, the enchanted upper rooms, kept cozy by insulating wallpaper and the eccentric furnishings of an amateur cryptozoologist, filled the tower with a warm touch.

Her mother didn't have that particular touch (or maybe she didn't care; mysteries of the arcane always interested her far more than magical cryptids), and thus the original stonemason's work stood out.

Luna found it comforting. Maybe in another life, colourful moving wallpaper suited her fancy, but now she needed as little distraction as possible. She focused on the lone furnishing in the room, a wooden table made of unlacquered planks. A long sheet of parchment laid unfurled on it next to a quill and inkwell. Her mother's notes on magical parasites. Lack of use and time dried the inkwell, leaving the quill stuck within.

Her silvery eyes darted past the notes. They interested her, very much so, but the black book laying atop the notes was what drew her in. Like a cat to a ball of yarn. She reached for the book—

"Luna—there you are!", her father's voice came from the staircase. The faint scent of dinner slid over her nose. Inviting, but _distracting._

Xenophilius' disposition soured upon seeing what her daughter held.

"Why are you holding that?"

Luna replied with forced cheerfulness, "This book's covered with Wrackspurts complaining of a Nargle infestation. I'm going to find it's owner and give it back to them to reunite the Wrackspurt colonies."

"I—you're going to meet the _Runner?!_ ", Xenophilius exclaimed, hands white against the railing.

Luna pursed her lips, "I don't think he's actually the Runner…"

Did she somehow get this wrong? Was she not in the right _place?_

Xenophilius _shrieked,_ "I'm not about to let you get another family member killed again! That boy is _dark!_ No boy should reek of dark magic as he does!"

She perked up, seemingly oblivious to Xenophilius' deteriorating mental state as she replied cheerfully, "Oh, would you say his eyes look like a Heliopath's?"

" _HELIOPA—_ oh, sweet Merlin, nobody's ever even SEEN a Heliopath! Why do—wait, don't change the subject young lady!"

Nevertheless, Luna persisted, "But do his eyes fit your conception of a Heliopath's? Do they glow with warmth?"

"Why would they make me feel anything like warmth?! You've seen him! You know that they're red and cold like _his_ were! Luna, you can't go—I won't let you go too!"

Luna's face suddenly split into a full-grown smile. Elation spread through her chest, warming her insides. He was _so close—_

Xenophilius' paling face must be because of her inexplicable happiness. He thought she went _looney._ He didn't understand what Luna was looking for. Actually, in truth, Luna didn't know either. But she did know that she remembered.

"Okay, dad."

"No you—wait, what? Really?"

"Yeah, I won't go looking.", Luna replied happily. She practically skipped over to the staircase, brushing past her father as she went up.

Why would she go looking, when she was certain that she already found it? All she needed now was ink, parchment, and an owl. Too bad her mum's ink had it's liquid stolen by Nargles and time. She'll make sure that the _Runner's_ mental state doesn't get stolen by those same culprits as well.

She thought of her snowglobe. She envied it's inhabitants, living in a world charmed to forget everything, all grudges forgotten once the globe was vigorously shaken. It was much like snow, covering up imperfections in the landscape. She wanted to play with the snowglobe again, it calmed her.

But for now…

"Hey Daddy?"

Xenophilius looked up warily.

"Where did Mum keep her hole puncher?"

She had a necklace to make. Her first one, the one meant for her mother, was in the hands of a mysterious hooded boy. The second one will go to him too.

* * *

Upon getting home Harry darted straight for his room, ignoring the wail of grief from Adam for not playing Quidditch with him. The subsequent scolding from Lily continued even when Harry entered his room and jumped into his bed. He wasn't tired, he just needed some place quiet.

And a test dummy. He ended up deciding on a wardrobe. He pointed his finger,

" _Diffindo!"_

He expected the spell to slice through the wardrobe, leaving a gash in it. Instead, a rip running heightwise struck through the unsuspecting cabinet, sending the two halves into the dresser and the wall with near-identical thuds.

Another shot of pain went up his arm. This time, it afflicted more. Not pain, but a sense of unnatural calm swept through him. He didn't like it. This calm _wanted_ , it mimicked the calm of an empty stomach after dinnertime came and went without nourishment.

It hungered. It scared him.

Harry wanted nothing more than a real wand now.

The sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs ended with his door flinging open, slamming into the broken wardrobe. James stomped into his room, wand in hand as he beheld the bisected wardrobe. His back straightened at the clean cut, turning back to Harry with an appraising look on his face.

"What exactly happened to that wardrobe?"

Harry sneered, not in any mood to talk to James, "Accidental magic."

James' lips twitched but he made no further comment, instead turning back to the wardrobe and waving his wand,

" _Reparo."_

Trying to send a message to James, he turned away from James intending to get in bed.

"What the— _Reparo!_ "

Harry looked back at James' incredulous voice. Despite repeated castings, the wardrobe didn't fix itself. Occasionally it shifted, rattling against the wall, but the crack ended just as gaping as when it started.

James whirled back to Harry, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion, " _What did you do?!"_

Harry swallowed thickly, "No idea, _James._ "

He did his best to ignore the urge to _feast._ A dark thing such as this could only be satiated by causing pain, which he had no interest to partake in. He was trying his _best_ to separate himself from his past! It's hard when he's faced with the same face that he stared down so many times, this time set on his father.

Ignoring it was so easy though.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet and awkward affair. Despite Lily and Adam's constant barrage of conversation starters, Harry kept his mouth shut, answering only in one or two syllables. Once they gave up Lily all but kicked them out of the dining room, frustration evident in every action she did. Harry looked forward to leaving the room, back to the quiet of his.

It wasn't very quiet. He blamed the stray he picked up.

"Hey Harry?", a voice echoed from the floor. Despite the lack of lighting Harry could tell that Adam's eyes were wide open, rustling around in his sleeping bag.

Harry grunted. Adam had convinced his—their parents to sleep over in his room after dinner. The wardrobe sat there in the background, still bisected. Lily said they'd owl for some furniture catalogues tomorrow.

They ended up going to sleep early that night. Harry silently thanked Lily for chasing everyone up the stairs, he needed to wake up early for tomorrow. He didn't expect Adam to be an absolute _puppy_ and follow him into the room.

He should've kicked him out, but instead settled on just not acknowledging his presence the entire time.

"Do you like being back home?"

"...why wouldn't I?"

"Well...I know how Dad thinks you're some You-Know-Who reincarnation and he's been treating you like absolute shite."

Harry scoffed, "I don't really care by now what he thinks."

He lied, but saying a lie enough times tends to make it true in his mind. Or at least, it makes it bearable.

Adam teasingly said, "That's a lie, but whatever. Say, what's the deal with your necklace? I've never seen you take it off, even when you shower and it's not exactly a fashion piece."

Harry absentmindedly fingered it whilst thinking of something to say. What should he say? 'It's a piece of my soul that is the result of a dark ritual. I killed a dear friend to make it.'?

"It's a good luck charm. A friend gave it to me."

"But that doesn't mean you have to wear it all the ti—"

"She's dead."

"Oh—sorry…"

An awkward silence fell between the two. Harry vainly hoped Adam said his last because he really needed to sleep. He had a potions shop in Knockturn to visit. He turned to his side, facing the window. A waning gibbous glowed happily through the glass.

"I suck at talking, don't I?"

Harry grunted again. Hopefully the less words he said, the more likely he will be _left alone._

His bed shook as the lithe form of his twin clambered onto the bed. His breath caught when two thin arms wrapped around his back.

They felt warm. Slowly, he relaxed when Adam made no further movements.

"Sorry...I don't know what else to do. It's just...you've been _hurting_ since we got back.", he quietly spoke into Harry's back.

"I'm fine.", the clipped words tumbled out of Harry's mouth. Why was the moon _right there?_ It's far too bright.

"You're not…at least, not mentally. Ever since meeting Neville you've been closed off—it's like you're pulling away from me—from everyone! Was it what I said?!"

"I'm _fine._ ", Harry bit out, placing far more emphasis on the second word. He ignored the question.

"No…it was what I said, wasn't it."

"No—why do you insist on being so annoying _?!_ ", Harry finally snapped. A beat of silence followed as Adam's arms slackened around Harry.

Adam's voice sounded so fragile, so _tiny,_ "This is what you used to do for me."

"What the blazes are you going on about?"

His voice came out all sorts of wavering and vulnerable, "I don't know if you remember, but I used to be trained by Dumbledore every week. Aside from the training, they sometimes made me watch interrogations and trials. I hated them, the Dementors—they fucked with my emotions! Twisted them! Everyone thought it would toughen me and I'd get over it after...but I didn't. I—I couldn't stand it!

And...and this is what you used to do. Clamber into my bed and hold me until I slept. You told _stories,_ you pried when I needed! To you, Iwasn't the Chosen One!"

Again, the drowning sensation. The words began to bury him. An intense sense of unwanted deja vu snuck up on his ankles and clamped down, refusing to let go. They _pulled._

Adam's voice _cracked,_ "And then...and then you left."

Adam's voice echoed through Harry's body. It bounced against every bone, every muscle, shattering everything as it plotted a trail to his soul. A trail already blazed by a silvery-eyed woman with a tear-stricken serene smile.

_Why was it happening all over again?!_

Echoes upon echoes, spectres of both old and new casted cold, judging gazes on him. The pressure rounded his shoulders, sitting on them with the weight of corpses and the downtrodden, cowed by lost hopes. He wanted to hide, to RUN.

Harry's breath quickened. He started twisting, he had to get away from Adam. He needed to be _alone!_

Adam's grip tightened, preventing him from even moving.

"Don't go."

Another expectation. Another one that he felt he can't meet. He had stopped trying to live up to everyone's expectations years ago, but that didn't mean he was callous. It still hurt to disappoint.

"Don't keep me here.", Harry hated how pleading his voice sounded.

"Wait until tomorrow then! Call me selfish, but even if you don't need me, I do. At least for tonight. Then...after, you can go."

After struggling some more within his twin's vice-like grip, Harry eventually relented.

Just before he fell asleep, Adam whispered quietly, "You said that to me before. The night before you left."

As if in response, his necklace began vibrating once more. It's low thrum lulled him to the company of Hypnos and Morpheus. He leaned into their embrace greedily.

* * *

_A younger Harry heard dull footsteps dragging their way up the staircase. Recognising the cadence, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. His brother's come back from another trip with Dumbledore! Dumbledore or someone he assigned often took him for 'immersion' experiences since he was six, and Addy enjoyed them. He always complained about how he wanted more, but Dumbledore claimed he wasn't ready. He had more to learn._

_Addy's mind was brilliant though! Fantastic on the uptake, reading between the lines came as second nature to him. That's part of the reason why Harry loved Addy so much._

_If Dumbledore said he's not ready, that wasn't Addy's fault. He always knew. Harry raced to his door and flung it open with a wide grin,_

" _You're back! Addy, I have something to show—what happened?!"_

_His brother's face flashed an unnatural white, pasty as paint primer. His eyes widened, his mouth in a constant unhinged state. He walked in a way that screamed all sorts of wrong, dragging his feet as he went._

_Addy plodded past his room and went straight to his, not even acknowledging Harry at all. He never did that before._

_The sounds of another person coming up, this one with firmer footsteps. It was Dad, who came up right as Addy's door closed with a light click. Harry took a deep breath, whatever happened to Addy was_ serious. _He won't get any information if he went off on Dad._

_Thus, he forcefully tamped down his worry and asked Dad with a barely level tone, "Why's Addy like that? What did Dumbledore do?"_

_Dad frowned but his response came smoothly, "Addy's just a little tired today, he's had a long day watching trials at the Wizengamot."_

_Practiced. His dad's speech sounded practiced. But Dad would never lie, would he? But the wariness and the far-too-quick response sounded like a sleazy pawn shop owner, and his dad isn't that! His dad's an Auror, someone who worked to keep people safe._

_Not to mention, he's their DAD. Dad only ever lied when he or Uncle Padfoot did a prank. Pranks are_ funny _! Addy didn't look excited, he looked dead._

" _Are you sure?", Harry asked earnestly._

_Dad had a tell. His eyes, they revealed everything he thought about. Talks with Dad ended quickly because his answer already blurted itself out. Addy had the same tell too. They both found Harry slightly creepy for recognising it, but he bet Mum knew that secret too—they just chalked it up to her being Mum._

_Right now, their frantic movements screamed_ shifty. _They eventually settled somewhere on his nose, thus Harry knew the truth before his Dad could even begin to form his words. He still wanted to hear it from his father though._

_So when Dad wearily gave his affirmation as he came over, Harry felt just the tiniest part of his childhood innocence die._

_He won't let it die quietly._

" _Okay, I believe you.", he murmured, leaving his room with a heavy heart. When James reached out he shrunk away from his touch, darting over to his brother's room and locking the door as he barged in._

" _Not a good time, come back later.", a muffled voice greeted him. Harry spun around and saw his brother, hunched over with his head on his knees. His face resembled a ghost's._

" _No, I don't think I will. Something tells me I shouldn't leave you alone right now.", Harry commented, sliding easily onto the purple-covered mattress. Choosing to ignore Harry's obstinance, Addy turned away from him, choosing instead to face an equally purple poster stuck to his wall. He stayed resolutely mute._

_Harry didn't. He injected as much cheer into his voice as he could as he rattled off, "Ron came over today, said he wanted to hang out. When I told him you were gone, he gave me the look—you know, the scrunched up face that he does? Think he wanted to borrow your broom, Merlin knows I wouldn't ever lend him mine. Mum was talking to Mrs. Weasley, so he had to come in and hang out with me."_

_He took a second to catch his breath, and to see whether there were any signs of life from the hunched figure. Not seeing any, he continued insulting Addy's best friend merrily._

" _I don't see what you like about Ron. His manners—I swear, he wears half his breakfast! He talks over everyone with this smug voice too, when he clearly knows nothing that he's talking about! I had to distract Ron with Uncle Padfoot's Quidditch set, gave him my team to play with just so he could shut up for a few minutes. Blimey, he got half the team's names wrong! Called himself a Quidditch pro, too—"_

" _You let him use your Puddlemere team?", Addy interrupted quietly, breaking his spell of silence._

_Harry mentally cheered but forced himself to keep his casual tone as he replied, "Had to. Once I figured out that at least one of your friends wasn't an airhead, I needed to talk to him alone for my sanity's sake. Padfoot took his set home with him, so the only teams here are yours and mine."_

" _You wouldn't even let ME use your Puddlemere team without you hovering nearby.", Addy said accusingly, voice gaining strength from his resentment._

" _I was desperate! He talks and talks as if silence was a sin!"_

" _Sort of what you're doing right now, then.", Addy replied wryly. In most other situations Harry would've taken that as an invitation to tussle, but right now Addy's returning colour took precedence._

_So he laughed, "Yeah, but at least I make sense! He thought that they used blood from the actual players to make the team sets! Blood! Like the Ministry would let them perform blood magic to make toy sets, the dense oaf."_

" _If you were anyone else I'd slug you for that."_

" _But you won't.", Harry replied cheekily, spirits uplifted._

" _Considering how many people you've pissed off, I'm surprised you don't walk around with a black eye every fortnight."_

_Harry grinned, "Because I suck up to them right afterward, and they tend to forget the insult before the compliment."_

_Addy sighed melodramatically as he turned back around to face Harry, "You're a complete git to everyone. No wonder you don't make many friends."_

" _I'll make friends with people that aren't boring. Not my fault the only person that applies to is in the same room as me."_

" _As I said, git."_

_Harry fondly punched him in the shoulder. A comfortable silence settled between the two, uninterrupted in it's serenity._

_Eventually, Addy broke the silence with a solemn voice, "Thanks—for not asking."_

" _You wouldn't tell me even if I did."_

_Addy slipped into thought, finger tracing the logo emblazoned on his bedsheet. Eyes hardening, he resolutely said, "I would. Just—just not now, maybe tomorrow."_

" _Awfully short wait, I was expecting next week."_

" _Git."_

_That night they fell asleep in the same bed, Harry cradling Addy as they slept. Addy told his twin everything in the dead of night, having woken Harry with his tossing and turning. They sat on the mattress, staring into the sky as Addy started recalling his tale. The encounter with the Dementors, the live execution via the Kiss administered to the Death Eater on trial, everything._

_Harry hugged Addy tightly as soon as he finished speaking, ignoring the wet spot forming on his shoulder._

_Eventually, they separated and fell once again onto the bed._

" _Oh, Dumbledore said he would take me shopping for my wand tomorrow."_

" _Aren't you too young—wait, you're learning how to fight already?!"_

_Addy shifted uncomfortably. Bright eyes shouted a silent plea only Harry could hear, "He thinks I'm ready. I'm really not."_

" _Think he'll let me come along to keep you company?"_

" _I doubt it_. _He doesn't seem overly fond of you, I suppose it's because you're not the Boy-Who-Lived.", Addy responded sardonically._

_Harry's lip curled at the moniker. At times it felt like he used up all his luck at the age of 13 months to avoid Addy's stardom. People liked inviting him to publicity events, and often asked the rest of the Potters to come along as a courtesy. Harry went to as few of those publicity events as he could, weaseling his way out from them with every sort of excuse. Not that they really wanted him, they needed their star not his snarky introverted twin._

" _I don't see why he even wants to train you so early. Does he expect You-Know-Who to suddenly rise up from our floorboards?"_

_Adam shifted uncomfortably, "Dumbledore definitely thinks something's going to happen—he refuses to tell me what, but Dad's in on it. Mum possibly as well."_

" _But they think you of all people are the one to take him on.", Harry stated without inflection._

_With an air of helplessness, Addy nodded._

_Something didn't sit well with Harry about all of this, the motives of the old warlock chief amongst them. What did a kid, smart as he may be, have that fully grown Aurors and the bane of Grindelwald don't?_

" _Hey Addy, I'm following you to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I don't care if Dumbledore doesn't want me to—tell him I want to check out the new Cleansweep brooms or something."_

* * *

Harry woke up to a burning hot pain, . He sat up, gasping for breath and knocking Adam's hand off him in the process.

That didn't bother him, Adam continued to slumber despite his hand missing a Harry-shaped armrest. The burning did, especially when the necklace gave off a deep red glow. What's worse, it _floated._ As Harry moved, it moved with him. However, the movement didn't match quite precisely with his, almost like it was pointing at something. With the magnetism of a child to candy, it pointed to Adam.

A significant amount of dark taint rolled off the necklace, imbuing the air with the flavour of blood magic. Unlike most dark magic it didn't call for harm and destruction. Rather, Harry felt a multitude of emotions as the dark air touched him. Apparently deeming him a non-threat, it floated harmlessly over to Adam as a fingerlet reached out and _poked_ the boy. Like a curious kitten, it poked several places, roaming over Adam's sleeping figure slowly. Harry watched with morbid fascination as the dark cloud seemed to have a mind of its own. All the while coming to a horrifying conclusion.

His horcrux didn't do this. Which means, this necklace (identical in almost every way otherwise) might not be _his_. Harry clambered out of the bed, breathless, and watched as the cloud was tugged back forcefully. It seemed to almost _hiss_ in displeasure from being pulled away, before churlishly returning back into the necklace.

His didn't _do_ that. His horcrux was just that—a horcrux! With no extra spells! A container without sentience! Which begs the question, just _where_ was his horcrux?

Not knowing that gave Harry the worst feeling.

He took a deep breath, calming himself as best as he could. He still had a shop to check out, a shopkeeper to interrogate. He needed to look for his soul fragment, but getting to Knockturn had a time limit. Getting _explanations_ had a time limit!

Putting on a black overcoat, he stepped out of the room, ignoring the childish whine that seemed to emanate from his necklace, and out of the house. He never noticed how a light turned on from the second story window.

It snowed frighteningly that night, smothering everything in a blanket of coldness.

* * *

Apparating with a calmer mind proved that he still remembered his skills, even if this time he was aided by a wand-arm. Like earlier, a pain that struck at his bones streaked across his arm, leaving him with a strange empty feeling.

He ignored that. Pain was _comfort,_ it was familiar in a time when everything was uncertain. His _morals_ , everything were uncertain. Thus, it felt great. A cold shower on a hot summer's day.

Knockturn Alley remained unchanged from what he remembered. Borgin and Burkes sat near the entrance, every bit and bob viewable through the window. His destination lay within the bowels of the Alley, however, not near the picturesque mouthpiece.

He took side roads to get to the apothecary, wanting to avoid the dodgy folks that hung around after midnight on the main path. Thus, by the time he got to the destination, the sky started to turn navy in colour. Time wasn't on his side tonight.

As he happened upon the store, he stopped and stared with disbelief. It appeared time hadn't been on his side for some time now, judging from the blown out windows and the tingling smell of charcoal wafting through the air. Seeing no obvious signs of movement around, Harry pulled his cloak closer to his body and dispelled his Glamour, revealing his ruby eyes to the world. Best to greet the shopkeep with a familiar face on the slim chance that he was nearby.

The inside spoke of concurrence with the facade, a similar dark stain covered everything left standing. The musky smell of erumpents mixed into the familiar smell of burnt herbs and furniture, giving off a horrible smell that could only be described as bushfire. The one thing that survived mostly intact appeared to be the counter, which was undoubtedly charmed to withstand dangerous attacks. Such was the life of a Knockturn Alley shopkeep.

"You...you're back-um."

The stout frame of the apothecary owner came from the back room behind the counter, hand held against the doorframe. His eye bags could fit galleons into them, but that was nothing compared to his wildly frazzled look. His normally gruff appearance took a worrying downturn with his rumpled shirt not even fully buttoned and his coat sporting several stains.

Clearly, something went awry. For starters, the Marion he knew wore cloaks and robes.

Red irises flitted to the new ornament hanging below his neck. A keyhole peered back curiously. A shrunken chest.

"And you're moving. Why?"

Harry warily noticed the shiftiness as Marion stuttered out his reply, "C-change of plans-um! I—"

His eyes suddenly shone with a frantic clarity as they sharpened on Harry's cloaked figure, "You're back!"

He hobbled over with an alacrity unbefitting a man of his stature, hands outstretched in front of him robotically. Harry backpedalled over the burnt husk of a shelf and hastily shot a banishing charm in the man's direction, sending him spinning into the wall with a dull thud. The familiar pain that shot through his arm seemed to be inching closer and closer to his heart, but Harry did his best to ignore it again. Marion slumped against the wood, his eyes never taken off of Harry's despite the impact.

The shopkeep didn't seem fazed as he rasped out, "You've come back! Have you brought-um the Dagger?!"

"Dagger?"

Harry could clearly see the whites above Marion's eyes, despite the distance. He started to bear stark resemblance to an owl.

And thus, it wasn't hard to see the tears well up. Marion's face twisted into a truly horrific sight; snot peeked from underneath his fat upturned nose, tears freely streamed down his cheeks as he started blabbering, "You d-don't have it?!"

Harry's jaw shifted, molars grinding, "Have what?"

"The Dagger-um! _Your assignment_! Herpo's Dagger!"

_Herpo?_

There's a name to this madness. Not only a name, but the object too. Harry did his best to ignore the snivelling mess in front of him as he strode over to the shopkeeper, picking up his wand that laid on the floor. A foul slickness coated the wand, making Harry's lip thin. He didn't want to spend any time more than he had to in this burnt dump, but he couldn't settle for the half-answer.

"You sweat a lot."

Marion's crazed appearance paled, his wart contrasting heavily with his face. Evidently, he forgot about his wand in his frenzied state, "W-What are you doing-um with that?"

A lance of fire went through Harry, one he hadn't felt in a while. The urge to point the wand at Marion grew with every passing second.

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid. What's this about Herpo's Dagger?", Harry asked with a forced level tone. Marion shuffled to his feet slowly, sniffling as he got up. Harry tensed, wand held at the ready in case Marion attempted to lunge at him.

_Strike first!_

Instead, Marion started shuffling to the backroom, muttering, "You don't have it-um. Gotta run before _he_ comes back. Gotta."

"Before who? What's he to you?", Harry called out, despite knowing who it was. However, he needed to know. Wasn't Voldemort just a wraith imposing on innocent souls right now? Harry assumed that his attacker was just Quirrell, or whoever the one before him was.

Marion coughed wetly, speaking in a tone that sounded like it was meant to be derisive but failed. If anything, it sounded pitiful, "As if you don't-um know. You've got-um my blood on your hands, Runner."

More questions than answers. Harry had enough. Glaring intensely at the retreating back, he raised the pilfered wand, his favorite curse on the tip of his tongue.

_I'd wish I was dead._

He gritted his teeth, changing tack as he used a more 'peaceful' curse.

" _Imperio."_

The man stilled. A thrill of excitement shot through Harry as glazed eyes turned up to meet his own. He remembered the first time he felt the Imperius Curse, it was almost like floating in a cloud. Like all his worries just washed away.

This wasn't the Cruciatus then, surely that meant it would be better.

His necklace jangled frantically, bottlecaps clashing angrily against each other. To Marion, the visage would have seemed demonic.

* * *

Herpo's Dagger is the Catalyst. He was meant to deliver it to the Dark Lord. Yet again, the damned dagger and the Dark Lord somehow managed to ruin his life despite being in a completely different world. He left the shopkeeper on the floor, his mind completely wiped. Leaving the smoldering wreckage of the former apothecary, he walked over to the middle of the street to Disapparate home.

Despite the hour, people were already starting to wake up. However, the streets were deserted save for a few lone stragglers. Sun rays shone on the main road, casting the first light of the day. Harry needed to _go,_ before his absence was noticed _._

" _This place absolutely_ reeks. _"_

Harry spun around, Marion's wand in hand at that hissing voice. A hooded figure had passed by him, the only person that could have spoken to him. That language, only two people spoke it, and neither sounded feminine!

" _Parseltongue.",_ Harry murmured in disbelief.

The figure stilled. They turned around, revealing bandaged eyes and a set of impossibly cherry red lips separated into a small "o".

" _That voice...you! You did not tell me you spoke it!"_

Harry grimaced. So his previous self met this lady before, and he didn't speak to snakes. Although, now that he thought about it, Adam would be the Parselmouth amongst the two and not him.

The lady retraced her steps back to Harry with remarkable speed, sidling up to him like an overexcited child.

" _It's been so long—oh you should have said something! A descendant, are you? Maybe of that last speaker? Tell me, I haven't heard the bombs in some time—is the silly war over yet?"_

" _Last speaker—what war are you talking about?"_

She waved her hand impatiently, making a clucking sound before she said, " _The silly war that caused Muggles to hide in their tunnels! He said it rained iron and fire for days! It must have been over, I suppose. That was quite a while ago…"_

Hide in the tunnels...that was the Blitz! The last Parselmouth was from the time of the Blitz and was at least aware of Muggle London, if not living in it. But how could that be? That was fifty years ago, surely he would've heard about another Parselmouth if there was another before the Dark Lord.

" _You absolutely reek though. You smell like him during his last visit—"_

" _He_ _?",_ Harry blurted out. The Gaunts were hermits, they never stepped foot anywhere outside of their shack for years. Was there an offshoot of that family somewhere?

The lady pursed her lips, _"Haven't seen him in a long time. Name was Tom, but he always went on about how he preferred his middle name or some moniker."_

Tom... _Tom._ Harry felt sick.

" _Tom Marvolo Riddle?"_

A pleased sound escaped her teeth as her mouth lit up, _"You do know of him! Are you his son? What's happened to him?"_

" _I know of him. He's...well known these days."_

" _Ah, he became famous then. Good good, he knew what he wanted and got it."_

Suddenly the woman _moved,_ coming close to Harry's face with her bandaged face. Despite no eyes being present, he couldn't help but feel like she was staring right at him. Unnervingly so.

" _What about you? Tell me, do you want anything?",_ she asked. Somehow, despite the hissing of the language, emotions flowed through her voice showing her experience with the language that not even the Dark Lord had. Now, her words were absolutely curious.

Harry didn't see why he ought to answer a stranger to whom his only connection was the bloody _Dark Lord,_ but he felt as if he ought to. Maybe it was the puckered lips, or the cat-like tone she used.

" _What I want isn't realistic."_

A family. A _normal life_ , with normal friendships.

The lady withdrew slightly, her lips twisted into an amused lilt, _"Perhaps you don't think so right now. Find me when you believe it otherwise."_

With an exaggerated curtsy, she left.

Feeling unsettled, he went in the opposite direction. The snow had picked up, cleaning up after both of their footprints as they left them, resetting the world as if they were never there.

* * *

Windows shut, weary witches tried to position themselves in between their children and her as she passed. However, she paid them no heed today for she found something _new._ Despite the non-answer the child gave, she could _feel_ what he wanted, from his tired posture to the red in his iris. Even without his parseltongue, she could feel the beginnings of a fantastical story beginning to unfold.

With his parseltongue, and thus being able to circumvent her curse? Why, now this was _trivial._ Parselmouths were always so much _fun._

The necklace, brimming with the familiar feel of the Dagger's magic, was the first dice roll. All she needed was to give him a few pushes in the right direction, he will do everything else himself.


End file.
